The Dusk of Day's Remains, sonnet Options

[heartsong7]

The Dusk of Day’s Remains

His coming home alive was only half
the battle. Acting like he cared at all
for anyone or thing, to simply laugh,
was hell. Awakened, crouching in the hall,
not knowing where he was or why he should
survive, he raised the gun, and felt the scar
where once had been a cheek; then slowly stood.

By morning he'd retrieved his old guitar,
a scratched-up, string-less wreck he vowed to save.
I watched him recreate an instrument.
As countless hours of renovations gave
him purpose, he was peaceful and content.
He strummed his own renditions. Those refrains
still echo in the dusk of day's remains.

[Michelle]

Hi Sue,

This is a potent poem. I will remember it. There is no doubt that this is about PTS. I've been away from poetry so long, my critiquing and writing skills have dulled, I'm afraid.

For me, this poem is fantastic as is. I have no suggestions. The meter and rhymes are perfect to me.

Reading you and some others here, makes me mourn the time I spent away from writing.

my best,

Michelle