• Left Behind

    Tear filled eyes spill memories
    Near forgotten. The wind, once
    Alive with laughter and
    Talk of glory,
    Now lies heavy, dead and silent.
    One remains, spending her days
    Within the great halls,
    pouring over painted memories
    of a husband and son,
    gone long ago.
    Did they find their glory, in the war-torn
    Hills and fen? Have they set
    Their feet upon the path
    home?
    Setting off,
    Weapons held close,
    They look back only once
    At her, standing, already alone atop the
    Stairs, surrounded by the winter
    White of a new year.
    We will return before the leaves
    lose their green.

    Beneath that stair, she
    Watches the last leaf fall,
    Torn and ragged.

    They will never come home.