He Won'T Be Coming Home

The other day I sneaked up to the attic. In search of love gone by. I stumbled across an old chest Colored in blue and grey. Across was: Robert T. Brannon. My heart stopped Skipped a beat or two. Butterflies danced in my stomach. The chest was locked. I was on a mission I could not be stopped. The lock was old Easily opened With my Grandmother's hairpin. I shuffled through silk Musty letters Old army issued bullets. I found it Here it was! Opened gently and read: My Dear Molly, It's cold, I'm scared. I'm all alone in the woods. I wanted to say I cared. I've killed men God will surely damn Me for my sins. I miss you dear In my eyes I carry a single tear. I await the day When I can come home And watch little Bobby play. Gunshots go off often. Oh, My Dear, I hope I don't come home in a coffin. I have to go But I just wanted to say I love you so. Love always, Forever and All my days, Colonel Robert T. Brannon. July 4th, 1863 Next I found another letter Short and to the point. I read with tears in my eyes. July 6th, 1863 Dear Mrs. Brannon, It is my sad duty To inform you Your husband was killed. He fought with the pride Of a thousand Americans. I wanted to tell you He was my best friend. He died with a piece of paper Clutched in his fist. This letter was in his hand. A picture of you in his pocket. I regret this my duty, He was a proud solider Fought with all his might Loved our fair country true. God bless you, Sincerely, Colonel Joseph T. Marshall. I brought the letter Down to my grandmother. Tears streaming down my face. Here you are Grammy. Kissed her cheek While she sat down to read Our families legacy.