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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