Mail

We promised to write

every day

and you did.

In your neat hand

with a whiff 

of Miss Dior

on each page.

So that in the slumbering 

barrack room

after the clamour

and mud and pain

and cold and boot polish

and disinfectant

I could pull the starched sheet

over my head

and feel you

beside me. 

John H Davies

13th May 2011