Shooting the Breeze

I met the others on the field.

We came with weapons,

Sharpened, at the ready,

Gathered on common ground.

In dawn’s early light,

After long sleepless nights

We stood and took aim,

Another’s target in sight.

With voices kept active

And tense ever present,

We fired our best shots,

And hoped our bons mots

Would find their way home.

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This was written for the Tenth Daughter of Memory.