DEATH IS OFTEN CHANCY, LOVE ON THE OTHER HAND SOMETHING ELSE.
RINGS Upon his finger, Beneath glove and grime, A simple band of gold, Never did he take it off, A link to her and home, Months went by, dangers many, End of tour approaching, Patrol for IEDs, sweeping route, Out of corner of eye, Fireball flaming towards him, In the night, restless worried, She... Sign in to see full entry.