Dearest Sweetie;
The lads leaving for the great outside are fouled up for sure. All but one had jobs which were more or less unskilled. For the past hour, have been trying to assist one in scribing to his former company--that my friend is called a, ‘sea lawyer.” Wif you can do so much better--personally that is.
That honeymoon spot--another one of the femmes jobs. Ah is just the trailing type--want to follow you for a long time. Tonight, after a day of an almost obscured sky--one of those dreary, drizzled days, when things cease to look pretty and everyone seems to turn the wrong direction, things began to shape up. Along about five-thirty, the overhead pushed back toward the mountains and it cleared for a fitting sunset. From where I stood, it just touched the slope of a distant mountain and then dropped down into its twelve hour oblivion. The ‘sol’ can be pretty when it’s above, or peeking around a cloud, or maybe coming over the huge hillocks, but there are none quite so beautiful to me, as the one which drops into the ocean. If you’ve ever noticed, I have many times, just as the ball of fire leaves for the last time in the day it flashes a funny colored green. An old chief quartermaster showed me that,
along with a host of other things. After it has been gone for a few short seconds, the clouds above become tinted in, well they could be termed almost indescribable hues. Purty tho--the best are down south, hope I never see them again. Only with you do I have any desire to cruise--doubt if we ever will, I might get
seasick. Back to the place for newly wedded peoples--pick it hon, I’ll go for free. Love you hon, and a radio story of E. Pyle, am about full of tears.
Love
Kenny Lee
Kenneth Lee Martin SM1/c
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