Home After The Battles

He'd walked a thousand miles, shot in the back near Petersburg, and brought the Russian bullet home. His path led by the doctor's home he would not stop as finer things awaited at her castle, near the church. With borrowed strength fell in the door and 'home at last' rolled of his lips, frostbitten ears took in the sound and all the meaning of it, before he did, another warrior had arrived before and Welcome was reserved for only one. He did not worry that the bullet caused, in just three days a poisoned blood and gangrenous disintegration. The stash of hidden bottles had remained, unfound and unappreciated until today. Surrounded by a dozen empty ones they found him with the happy smile he had reserved and carried through the steppes on his journey, for her. The preacher said that stress of war and what the soldiers saw out in the battlefield, was often way too much. But he remained quite still and kept his smile.