|
Letter #4
To continue reading the letters to Fran or for more info on using the Frannie material, please contact wapro@wapro.com
©2005 The Wapro Company No portion of this document may be
duplicated for any reason without the prior written consent of the owner.
|
Postmark
Grantham 9:45 AM
sorry
for you, what a horrible night you must have spent. From now on I hate all
mice like poison. I received your letter this morning and felt that the
world, for the time being at any rate, was worthwhile. We have had a most
difficult and trying time, two whole days of mimic warfare. Marching,
fighting and sleeping beneath the stars. Sounds awfully jolly, but, am I
tired. So if this letter doesn’t quite make sense forgive me. Last night,
I felt that I would like to be alone, so I left my comrades in arms who were
having quite an argument about something or other and set off, up to the top
of “Halls Hill” which was behind the camp. I sat right on the top and
saw the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. The sun was below the
horizon, which was clear and sharply etched, the rays of light spread up
fanwise lighting the faint wisps of cloud until they took on the appearance
of swirls of fire against the orange, purple sky. Below in the valley, the
remorseless tide of night enveloped cottage after cottage and slowly crept
up the steeple of the church until at last night reigned supreme and the
sun’s appealing arms slid gently beneath the tide. Above me, hovering a
little fluttering dot, a skylark sang his heart out, each liquid note hung
in the silence like a golden thread. Only one perfect chord was missing,
that darling was you. I missed you terribly. Whenever I find beauty in
it’s highest form, there too must I find you. I must end now dear, I can
hardly stay awake. Darling, I wonder if life can be beautiful.