Unborn Hero

Dusk and dawn camouflaged
themselves inside a fallen
soldier's daydream,

cinema lights beamed while
he buttered his fingers with
popcorn flavored memories
and slurped an extra-large
fountain of youth.

He anticipated the previews
of consciousness to end,
counting seconds until
he could watch the film
of a life he would never live.

His future wife caressed
the scent of him between
her hands,
tracing carved marble
like she was doodling
his name with hers
along an endless line.

A mirage of a son
that he never had the
chance to create saluted
the wind in honor of
an unborn hero.

Reflections of an
envied man stare
into memorized pupils -
climbing the mountains
of wrinkled cheekbones
and voyaging through
a shallow forest of an
ashen widows-peak.

As the credits rolled
behind his eyelids,
he bestowed eternal
sacrifice to his country.

-----------------------------------------
note;
In honor of Memorial Day. I was inspired to write this poem by a remark that President Ronald Reagan said in the Veterans Day National Ceremony on November 11, 1985.

"It is, in a way, an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country, in defense of us, in wars far away. The imagination plays a trick; we see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise. We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired. But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives -- the one they were living and the one they would have lived. When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They gave up their chance to be revered old men. They gave up everything for our country, for us...and all we can do is remember."

Copyright 2013: Hannah K.