Waiting To Go Home
Laying in this coffin of a bed,
Staring into a black box that,
Won't talk back.
Legs mangled and arms like limbs,
On a tree if they bend they will break off.
Remembering those days of yesteryear,
When you felt more alive.
Just looking at old glory,
As tears fall from your eyes,
Paying tribute to your brothers and,
Sisters who are no longer here.
Trying to piece together what went wrong....
A shadow comes thru the door,
Of a face I'll never forget.
I smile then I see more and more shadows.
He tells me " Sarge, come on, it's
Time to go home."
I get up out of bed and,
We disappear into thin air as if,
We were never there.
Then you hear the slight humming,
Noise of a distant machine down the hall.
Copyright © Shirley Hudson | Year Posted 2022
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