Their last kiss was laced with a passion meant to linger and sustain. Then, he marched to war, head high, ignorant of the horrors ahead. 

When his eyes clenched to the red, she appeared in a yellow dress. Soft breasts pillowed his head in the hardened trench.

Her pink lips soothed his sores, and rose scents masked the stench. They made love in the bedroom of his mind. Impassioned cries became the birdsong, drowning out death’s noise. 

Others thought him mad by his smile, never knowing her love was his solace. 

In the end, only one promise was kept.