Poem, Sagas, Scenic, Short story

Soft smiles.

How sweet the sound of children’s laughter sounds in quiet times. When food sits salted and pots all boil, when weapons are clean and stored. When all around is still but for the song of birds and the young.

The dead lay still inside their graves, their spirits smiling as they watch, for they had lived and died to make this quiet time for children. So the young could play both free and without a care.

So many forget in peace the wars, and in wars in turn, the peace. As though the world is nothing more than one thing or the other. But for the moments where the young do laugh, the old watch with a smile.

For in each and every moment, one must enjoy those fleeting things. And embrace the sweet still times that come before the fires and drums return. For in that moment there is nothing else, just as the laughter lives.

Fortunate are the ones who keep that quiet laughter in heart as much as memory. For that is why so many fight, the moments just as these.

 

 

 

A prompt response

9 thoughts on “Soft smiles.”

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