image borrowed from bing
Pocket Watch
for Peachy Bright 1841-1865
You slip from the wool lens pocket,
and hit my hand full and hard,
like a splash of cold Mississippi.
The day they marched him
to Andersonville flashes my eyes.
You, his sole possession, tick and tock,
tucked in a tattered Union sock.
A scribbled note sent out post haste,
"There's a chance we'll be home
in just a few days."
He steals a glance at your gold face,
making time till Daddy greets his kith
and kin, feels his daughter's pinkest kiss,
Estellina's lips again.
April hope swarms a homebound boat;
dashed dreams blaze bitter-bright.
The "Sultana" sinks that night
at Paddy's Hen.
Tess Kincaid
from PATINA.
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