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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A knock at the door, who can it be? Probably Sarah coming for tea. She usually calls on her way back from work to share some time with me. A look in the mirror, I 'tut' at my face: Why do people always call when there's junk around the place? I open the door - a man is standing there. I wish I'd worn some make up I wish I'd done my hair. It's then I spot the uniform: the buttons made of brass; the stripes that grace the khaki sleeves; the boots that crunch amongst the leaves. I question with my eyes? It comes as no surprise to hear him ask can he come in, and would I like to sit?' He has some rather grievous news - - I dread to hear it. I know what he is going to say. It's all a dream. Please go away. I'm not in to truth today I scream inside my head...... I know what he just said to me, but I didn't hear a word. His lips spoke out in silence, and me, I never heard. He's 'so sorry'. He gets up to go and heads towards the door. I try to rise to follow him but my legs will move no more; for they have turned to jelly and my head is going to burst. It's funny, when you're a soldier's wife, you always fear the worst, But it's only when you hear the knock, the knock upon the door, and see the face you've never seen: the shining boots, the uniform; the mouth that speaks the silent words the apologies and platitudes; 'killed in action in the war" The widow thoughts ring clear.
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