Dear Atticus.
I sleep under a blanket of camouflage every night
And every day I die under the sun where you aren’t
I carry with me; a few dozen letters from you,
a ring,
The change from our last dinner date,
Mr. Duty
(the stuffed Elephant you gave me before I left, you named him that
Because I am always called into action, you know I love elephants, you know I love you),
I carry the blanket I am sleeping on right now which your mother knitted for me,
Coffee beans scented bourbon truffle (I hate coffee but they smell like you),
The last treasure I carry is a picture of you, a little piece torn off the edge
Because it almost got left behind when we had to flee our camp ground
And I grabbed it in a rush
Just to let you know I’ll be home soon!
They say I’ve got only a few weeks left before they call in others
We can finally get married like we wanted to
Send Freddie boy my love; make sure that little rascal isn’t getting into
His doggy treats while you’re dreaming of me
Love,
Edward
To: Atticus Wesley
From: Lieutenant Colonel McClernand Butler
On this day of 25 December 1940
Edward Ramsey was found dead
With blunt force to his head, back, and rib cage
He was wrapped in a camouflage blanket
Crucifixes lay all around him and one was pressed firmly into his chest upside down
Biblical pages were shredded and thrown on top of him
The last note that was taken on this tragic event was that his head had been shaven clean
As of right now we are investigating the crime scene and interrogating other soldiers
But as you know the men here are very busy so this process might take awhile
The few belongings that he has will be shipped to you;
Letters, a ring, a few coins
And a picture.
We realize that Mr. Wesley may have had more objects with him
If we find anything else I’ll make sure you get it
We decided to send everything to you since you were the only one Edward
Has kept in contact with throughout these days
Once again I am very sorry for your loss
I hope you can try to find some joy this Christmas
YOU ARE READING
Pages of Yesterday
PoetryJust a collected works of poetry, in no specific order, about anything and everything. Many will allude to Whitman since I am currently studying him in my creative writing class.
