A baby suckling at my breast,
a husband looking down fondly at us,
a bag packed by his side
ready to go on a journey
maybe one of no return.
Missing my husband fondly
haven't gotten a letter recently
it is two months overdue.
Is that a knock I hear?
My spirit is happy, as good as new.
What do I see?
Two uniformed officers.
My husband is gone never to return.
Oh God! No, I slumb
never to return.
Where do these memories come from?
I don't seem to understand.
I am but a child
suckling my mothers breast
but this mystery I plan on unravelling.
But as I grow older
these memories seem to go dimmer
and my quest for an adventure
slowly but eventually
is finally extinguished.
YOU ARE READING
Words on paper
PoetryIt's like a fire a growing flame, going higher. It is building up, an uncontrollable wild fire. It is consuming, choking, I can't breath. I've got to let it out someway, somehow, I've got to relieve this weight, I've just got to let go.
