The man that was.....

by Wabil Janjua
(Sharjah. U.A.E)

He stood in front of the mirror,
Smiling, dressed in his army attire.
A still image, was all he could see,
And a blurry frenzy of memories.

It was early today,
Just the break of dawn.
The soft sunlight,
Dancing on his face.

He roamed the house once again,
Knowing he had to leave soon.
Those cherished feelings of home,
Would now represent a different place.

The room he entered,
Was coloured a soothing blue.
Filled with the soft purrs of a child,
His baby boy.

He'd never known a love like this,
A glowing radiance within his chest.
The amount of affection he felt,
Would cause him to do inhuman feats.

A gentle finger across his chin,
The child gurgled with glee.
An instant satisfaction coursed within him,
His work here was complete.

Stepping out he blew a gentle kiss,
Off to a different room was he.
In here, over the bed,
Sat the most beautiful woman he ever knew.

The room was white as snow.
They had fought over the colour here,
He was glad she had won.
Basking in the sunlight, he was awe-struck.

He knew he had to scare her as always.
Just to give it a try.
He tip-toed to the corner of a bed,
And let out a shout.

She wasn't the least bit startled,
It was all as he had expected.
He was merely a soul,
Lacking a body to surprise.

Yet in that exact moment,
Either through magic or divine intervention.
Sensing his presence,
She smiled.

Grinning with amazement,
He wiped a tear from his eye.
This is why he died in war,
This is what he tried to protect.

In peace with himself he prepares to depart,
A martyr for all intents and purposes.
As a beam of elegant light lifted him up,
He was off to a new place, heaven.

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