Sunday, February 10, 2008

The soldier at dusk (from my book)

Alone, with his eyes fixed to the horizon,
Dreaming of home, of the lush green lawns...
Of his wife knitting soft wool in the winter sun,
And the giggling voices his kids playing around her,
Alone, with his heart floating far away...
He sits squatted with his gun on his shoulders,
And remembers the weight of his boy -
He must have grown now, heavier, older...
His hands feeling the rough butt of the gun,
The feeling of the sand on his hands,
And the sun gleaming into his eyes,
He questions himself and his dreams question us...
His still shadow in the dusk, reassuring us,
Of a safe sleep while he stays awake...
Remembering life, watching it quietly pass him by,
He stands on guard with his sons growing old in the letters...


No comments:

Post a Comment