Michael was 18 and wore yellow trainers.
He had dark curly hair which he hated.
He had his whole life planned out.

Kathy was 17 and was happy to be in his plans.
She wore skirts in winter and pants in summer.
She liked gum, strawberry gum and Michael.

He’d kissed her at Becky’s birthday party, three years ago.
On the back porch.
On the cheek.
She’d blushed.

He was her hero, first.
He wanted to protect her from everything.

But when Michael discovered the army, Kathy broke it off.
She hadn’t realised his plans could make her a widow.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly