Wounded Soldier



                      

The couriers leave tomorrow
              She's told
With patience she sews the soldier's
             Frock
And every tear turns the needle
            Icy cold
Expectation turns to despair as the
      cocks crow. It's dawn

The ship sails for home tomorrow
               She hopes
Carefully she lays out the master's
               Robes
Once again smoke lines the chimney
               Walls
Expectation turns to doubt as she
endlessly waits. Empty shores.

With the horn blaring in the distance
               She knows
Passenger after passenger dispelled
              She mopes
Nameless terror rises from within
              Her soul
Expectation becomes ghastly as she
    turns to leave. Alone.

The doorbell rings just after dusk
            She groans
Her muscles aching every step down
            She's old
She opens barely able to see beyond
            Her nose
Expectation finally reality as she
sees the figure by the lamp post.

  Alas! Her wounded soldier has come back home.







Poem by: Sophia Chukunda




         Bio
Do the little things so you won't have to do the big things; is one of Miss Sophia's famous quotes. Miss Sophia is a writer, event planner and student, who translates imaginative thinking into words. She makes beautiful art with words.
See her on  Facebook 






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