Traveler

He picks up that old bag; holding my pale hand,
With tears in his bright eyes; hands me a gold band -
"This is my promise to you, from the bottom of my heart,
I will make it back to you Babe, create a new start."

And he slid that ring onto my finger as he sighed:
"I'm sorry;" He started, looking at me wide-eyed,
"The train whistle is blowing, I've got to go!"
He yelled, kissing my face as white as snow.

I watched his face disappear, hand print on the window,
And I stood there every night under the stars aglow,
Waiting and hoping that train would come for me to see,
My traveler making his way back home to me.

I tore the curtains off; painted the walls a shade of army green,
I watched every movie with a happy home coming scene,
Skipping over the blood and the gore; the falling men,
Hoping and praying to see the sweet face of my traveler again.

The men that arrived, carrying all his belongings to me,
Were afraid to tell me the news, their tears I could see;
"I'm sorry ma'am, but your husband has died,"
They told me that morning, but I told myself they lied.

Now standing here watching for the headlights of the train,
I wait for a glimpse of his army green; leaning on my cane,
Time slows down to a halt, as strangers faces blur to and fro,
Reminding me of the traveler I lost for them so long ago.

-Jenna Elphick
June 11, 2007

[['Them' would be society to whom he fought and died for.]]