Wednesday, March 30, 2016

He was home


She had waited so long for him
The candles flickered in the draft
When he finally opened the door at last

You are back, you are back, she cried
Elated that back from war he'd come
"I've missed you my love", then looked at him aghast

T'was not the man she knew before
For his wounds she could clearly see
His bandaged arm, his halting gait showed the past

So she sat him down by the fire
Helped him take off his coat and shoes
Hiding tears, trying not to look downcast

He slept in that chair an hour or more
As a meal she did now prepare
Once she heard him moan, dreaming of a blast

But he was home and recovered well
What he needed was her wifely touch
The doctors were so pleased he'd come good so fast

Image found at www.pinterest.com

6 comments:

  1. Cousins we met up with in Germany related the story of their father returning from Russian prison after the war, they hardly recognized him.

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  2. this tells the true story that nothing truly matters but that he's home safe.

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  3. The tragedy of war and human sufferings affect both. The only difference one suffered earlier and the other just beginning.

    Hank

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  4. I've seen this played out around town a time or two. They go off to war so cock sure and come back so shattered.

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  5. Time and love - maybe that's the real meaning of home and what we need to survive any kind of war - superb story telling in this poem Old Egg..could really feel and see the scene

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