The One Precious Memory

It was that beach day.

Carl, ten, wanted to throw a ball with his brother; Paul, twelve, was far too sophisticated for such things, and wanted to read in the shade, but he played anyway because he was good and kind and generous of spirit. I thought to take a picture, but had forgotten the camera in the room.

From there they went home with their parents and then to school with their friends and then with their whole generation into the army, of course, when the time came: Carl to Verdun, and Paul to the Somme, neither to return.

14 comments:

  1. This is the year when we finally start to remember the atrociousness of the trenches in WWI...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Excellent for today and the wars we are still sending young men....tragic write

    ReplyDelete
  3. Mournfully pensive, a beautiful mood well expressed.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Will it ever change? A beautiful and thought provoking piece.

    Visit Keith's Ramblings!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Replies
    1. It's a drabble rather than a poem :) Thanks for reading and commenting!

      Delete
  6. A very beautiful piece ... thoughtful and sad.

    ReplyDelete