Weary

Each day the old soldier sat alone in the empty church, staring at walls of ancient stone, before walking amongst the green fields, the plants brushing his fingertips.

At day’s end, as the sun set and orange light spilled across the lonely town, he watched until the stars came out, fresh and new and twinkling.

And as he lay down to sleep in that solitary place, he always thought that tomorrow might at last bring him the peace he sought.

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This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Ales Krivec for providing the prompt photo!