Ashlee Whited
The Lost Leg of a Corporal for His Country is Not a Loss at All
We danced around with cheeks flushed;
wine-two-three-four-once-more.
My dress swished against his knee like the
ocean of our dance floor.
His heartbeat kept time to waves on the shore,
mine wandered off to play.
Seeing those Stripes of blood down to his shoe--
I knew he'd never say.
Long awaited night, remembrance
of a loss met with pride.
Never once regretting taking his stand.
Love heals at low tide.