‘The day I die’ he said to me, peacefully, like a robin in winter, whistling on the branch of a tree.
‘I want you to remember me, as a hero who died fighting for freedom for our country’
The words sunk in and I counted to ten, ‘You want to die at war’ I said.
He looked into my eyes and realised that what he said had hurt me.
The day had come, where I smelt blood, his coffin covered by the Union Jack.
Hundreds of letters that he had sent were wrapped in a bow inside my coat.
I cried for years after that, knowing I would never get him back.
Every year, on a day in November, I would visit his grave knowing he was now safe in Heaven.
No one could hurt him, the angels would protect him, and his soul will live on. He was now safe from harm.
His presence still lingers around me, sending shivers up my spine. Even though he was gone I could still feel myself being protected by his loving arms.
I will never love any other man; he is the only man that I would ever want to call, mine.