I use to thing he was there.
There for me always.
But where did he go?
He was training for this his whole life.
But I didn’t want him to go.
I cried for him to stay.
Why didn’t he listen?
“I’ll always come back for you.”
“I love you.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t go!”
He got on the plane.
Away from me.
“WHY?” I screamed.
“Please.” I cried.
Two years later:
“Mrs.?”
I stared at the man at my door.
“Yes?”
He bowed and saluted.
“This is for you. Im sorry.”
I cried more at his grave,
Flag in hand.
He was gone.
Gone forever.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
I use to thing he was there.
There for me always.
But where did he go?
He was training for this his whole life.
But I didn’t want him to go.
I cried for him to stay.
Why didn’t he listen?
“I’ll always come back for you.”
“I love you.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t go!”
He got on the plane.
Away from me.
“WHY?” I screamed.
“Please.” I cried.
Two years later:
“Mrs.?”
I stared at the man at my door.
“Yes?”
He bowed and saluted.
“This is for you. Im sorry.”
I cried more at his grave,
Flag in hand.
He was gone.
Gone forever.
In this poem, I wrote in the place of a woman who lost her husband on duty.
