Upon A Beach IV

Here on this beach

as the sapper and

his Bangalore worm towards

the wire, I am

suddenly thinking of her

on that balmy beach

all those years ago

back in steamy Selangor.

And as, all around

me, men were dying

in most horrible ways,

all my thoughts turned

towards her and our

steamy days of passion.


Among the dunes, I

remember, the sand between

our toes. The sun

was warm, unlike today.

The sky was clear

blue, an azure worth

remembering as we lay

down and shared our

wine and cheese. Here

the sand and blood

were the prevailing scents

and the sound ruptured

the screams of the

dying and the wounded.


She came from riches;

I from a trading

house. Our eyes met

across the room and

from then on, we

were lost to each

other. Her dark hair.

Her grey-blue eyes.

That twinkle in her

smile that itched cheekiness

that I could abide

because it was so

damned attractive on her.

And a body to

die for, unlike here.


On the beach we

made love that first

evening; the fire inside

too hot to quench

with Mai Tais or

gin. But such ardour

is doomed to die

out easily and early.

And so it was

with us both. She

back to her plantation

and isolation; me to

my new posting and

emptiness. But still I

remember those sandy breezes

and passion-filled moments,

not unlike here in

this hellish tempest this

June morning upon

this beach of death.


© 2017 L. Tafa


Author: b20f08

I enjoy solo wargaming and writing. The first caters to the boy that never grew up; the latter satisfies a deep desire to communicate. Cheers.

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