Lost Soldier
The water in his hands
was like a crystal ball,
replaying the recent
‘hand-to-hand’ past
with absolute clarity.
As he knelt, he dipped
his bloodied hands
into the stream,
lifting the reddish,
murky drink to his lips,
the images disintegrating
into his mouth.
The river rock underneath
his knees felt comforting
as he continued to dip
his cupped hands
into the creek
and up to his face,
the motion reminding him
of the ferris wheel
at the county fair.
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
a little gem, like 🙂
you’re quick! thanks so much, Bonnie
this feels sad .. your poem here i so like the first part also of the water like a crystal ball beautiful .. beez
i so agree, beez, about the sad part. no happiness in war.
Beautifully penned and felt- thank you for sharing this
thank you for visiting (again) and leaving this lovely note
I enjoyed your use of connected symbols: “crystal ball” and “ferris wheel at the county fair”. The poem flowed nicely with a great opening and ending. Well done!
thank you for the visit and comment, Millie. i’m happy you enjoyed the poem. jw