This is a fabulous poem kindly contributed by Becca.
The disagreement always the same,
Seeing who was to blame.
She was numb, thoughts no longer clear
Drunk on it all.
He thought she had caused it,
Making them fall.
It was a bitter pill to swallow.
No one would escape unhurt.
Battle lines drawn,
Armour was worn,
What inspired that final moment to rise,
Where was hate born?
She remembers happiness not so long ago.
Of the 21st,
Where the woods were good for poetry and mischief.
No words needed, they didn’t speak.
He remembers the day after,
The tears and grenade thrown words,
Covered the floor.
They walked through the field of crystal clear shards that were now smeared red waiting for summer to be un-dead.