A Soldier’s Farewell
The war was over, yet the loneliness settled in harder. The bombings ceased, but my love did not return.
The dirt road was empty, my mind wondering on the young man that left my side for pride of the foolish politics and propaganda.
”Oh my love…”, and I smiled lovingly on the river bed in time gone by, planning the lives of our children and their names.
My love and I lived as humble Catholics, loving man and wife. “My love where are you now?” My warm breathing staining the glass in hopes of seeing him walk up the dusty path he left on.
The sound of a vehicle driving up the road, slowing down, brakes screaming to a halt outside my wooden fence, the excitement of the possibility of it being him, my love.
Two men walking up my path he built so lovingly, in their officer suits, fine looking gentlemen, but none are my love. The gentle repeated knocks on my door.
The pause and hesitation before I open the door. The pounding of my heart, our eyes meet, wanting to stop in the moment unaware of how to react. The arm stretched out with a small letter in hand.
Melvyn Mohan lives in South Africa, and according to him “We reveal ourselves to the world when we write in hopes that we are not the only ones that feel this way and that someday someone will understand our thoughts.” More of his works can be read either on http://poemhunter.com/melvyn-mohan/ or on http://www.poetfreak.com/poet/MelvynMohan.