'and the Walls Came Crashing Down..........'
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.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
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