Travel of Violets. 1940's.

“My Dear Lew. I write for the last time

this year. So much happening these days.”

Thanks Red Cross: one letter en route cross

embattled oceans. Violets jostle

on the page lingering with Mother

love. Son captive in distant steamy

jungle singing songs for his fellows

as they build railway and strong bridges.

“We had quite a good Christmas party:

eleven for dinner. There’s been no

news of you? We keep reading your last

letter. Your wife bought violets up.

I keep getting little whiffs of them.

Goodnight dear. God Bless and keep you safe.”