Normandy

Metal helmets,

Wooden rifles,

Trembling hands,

Shuddering breaths,

Scared faces,

Wind howls in your ears,

The sea spray salty,

The artillery booms,

Ghosts of war scream.

Fifty yards,

The boat shakes in the currents.

Forty yards,

You take out her picture.

Twenty yards,

Run your hands across the photograph.

Fifteen yards,

Kiss her beautiful face.

Ten yards,

You’ll see her again.

The ramp drops.

Come home safe, won’t you?