BLANKET OF MUD

He found her in the sodden paddock, crying

her face and arms covered in mud.

He moved towards her, slowly,

taking her in his arms, ever so gently.

No words needed, none would be heard..

they'd been here before.

Slowly, they made their way back

to the old barn, filled with hay.

She wouldn't go to the house, not today.

As he helped her to sit, she pulled away.

He stepped back, watching from the shadows

his heart aching.

He wondered how long this would be

it mattered not, he would wait.

He owed her his life, she waited for him.

It'd been so long ago, in the fields of France.

He'd lain, covered in mud

near the village of Pozieres

all hope fading, till he felt her soft hand

wiping his brow and a cool, wet cloth touching his lips.

She'd almost stumbled over him

while searching for food in her father's field.

His next memory was of resting in a barn

half covered in old blankets and hay.

She nursed him back to health

over three long months

then helped him to get back to his unit. 

He returned, years after, to see the girl who saved him

she, no longer a girl, he, no longer a boy

but united forever.

They settled into farm life, far away

but the fields of France never left them.

He'd wait, she'd return, till the next time.

(c) Crissouli Nov 9, 2015