Postcard From the Edge of Summer

WWI postcard

Just a line to tell you so,

for I am sadder than you know,

that off to war you had to go,

beautiful beau.

The summer heat

is not discreet.

I can feel the pulsing beat

of tribal rhythms

in my feet,

much too happy

for a heart

so full of woe.

And after ten a.m.

it's just too hot.

Limply languid on the couch,

all-I-am-not

totes up the gains and losses,

dot by dot.

I am forsaken, all bereft.

My poor heart has

a leaden heft.

I was a happy girl

but then you left.

Watch the farthest distant shore,

where I am waving, ("Je t'adore!"),

hoping we will meet once more,

after the war.

for Kerry's postcard challenge at Real Toads.