Thursday, November 29, 2007

For Return He Must


The leather boots,





stamped and marched,





those weary eyes searched,





when all left,





waiting on an empty station,





with frail legs and wrinkled hands,





sat there, a mother,





maybe the next one,





maybe tomorrow,





as the train whistled away,





he's a valiant,





he's a warrior,





I cannot lose hope,





in pride I must live,





O! my perfect one,





I know, return you must,





for I am waiting,





for all the prayers in the deep of the night,





for all those days when I slept hugging your shirt,





for all those times when I thought I heard you knock at the door,





Be safe be well,





be strong,





A lone tear trickles down,





I mustn't cry , I mustn't cry,





"dead" they say , I do not believe ,





you're my stalwart,





with her tender grey locks ,





every day she saw,





fathers , lovers & sons,





every day she sat there,





broken in spirit,





but firm in hope.





For return he must,





for return he must...



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