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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The sun was creeping through the windowpane I lifted my head to see sparkling dewdrops from the rain And in the fields, I saw someone slowly walking He almost looked familiar, yet his face was shocking As he came ever nearer, The realities of the war at hand were never clearer My son’s right eye was simply no more And his left eye was shyly cast down to the floor He embraced me, sobbing, but relieved To be so courteously and kindly received The day my son returned was the day my husband died It was the day when all my family sat there and cried Sheets of tears from both eye sockets Were seen on the soldier’s cheeks as he put his hands in his pockets I told him gently that Dad was proud of him His expression was grim… The clouds ever looming over our home He talks so little; he’ll contemplate and roam The farm is tended to and the garden does flourish The fruits and vegetables of our harvest will nourish But as we are easily healthy and fed, My son is stricken in panic and dread He wakes up in the middle of the night Clutching onto Dad’s photograph for dear life The horrors he has witnessed I shall never know And the gardens of his remaining youth shall never grow Limping in the evening, he cleans his plate without complaint I miss the days he used to pick on me—calling my main dishes plain I miss his personality, his wit, his SOUL I must learn now to rake his remnants across the coal In the brink of sadness and stillness… The bomb hits me to the innermost core I HAD LOST HIM IN THE WAR
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