The Plea

In dress uniform, Was trained for combat, Which could not compare, With the task at hand. Sitting on his knee, His brown-eyed daughter, Whose eyes filled with tears, As she made her plea. “Please, don’t go, Daddy,” She cried, “Please don’t go. I’m your little girl And I love you so.” Choking back his tears , Trying to be brave, How could he explain, What could not be said? Right words would not come, And nothing could drown, The words of his child, That pearl in his arms. “Please, don’t go, Daddy. Mommy is sad, too. Don’t leave us alone. We want you at home.”