The Soldier's Wife

 The Soldier's Wife
 

Once upon a crisp Autumn day
While the winds were stirring and the children did play
Upon an elderly lass I did cast a swift glance
Whose eyes were brightly viridescent and as wild as chance

Alone on a well-worn bench she did rest
A tattered, old book pressed firmly to her chest
In all shades of blue she was beautifully clothed
On her finger shone a ring from her lover betrothed

To the birds she did speak as they landed quite near
In soft words she did speak to them, in soft words heard most clear
She beckoned to me as she motioned to share
Her bench so warm 'neath the cool, Autumn air

She asked of what memories I had hoped to leave here
In this leaf-littered park near the ocean so clear
Great pain and sorrow to her I did convey
Of a loss most shattering and of a life left most gray

With an emerald stare into my soul she did peer
And she saw in my heart her very greatest of fears
Of her dear loving husband to me she did speak
Who had left her quite frail, quite lost and quite weak

Of a war she did speak and of a draft most unfair
Of men sent away and of women left unaware
She then spoke to me of a summer most grave
When soldiers had come to tell her of a man most brave

My hand she did touch and she smiled so sweet
Many miles she expressed were left for my feet
The walk of life to me she assured was quite long
And my will to me she affirmed was quite strong

I inquired of her what life she had led
I inquired of her what man she had wed
Long after her love had been lost in the war
Some semblance of hope from her I did rightly implore

She looked away and her smile did solemnly fade
To the lonely pier her deep, verdant gaze did wearily stray
She told me of her sorrow and of her darkest of days
When her love was brought home and to rest he was laid

Of her loss of hope to me she did regretfully tell
When her life was a curse and her heart was impaled
To the lonely pier she did go one late Autumn night
And into an ocean of sadness her soul did take flight

I looked to the pier, then turned back to her
The bench was now empty and the wind no longer did stir
Save the worn book which in old leather 'twas bound
There was no sign of the woman to ever be found

By Justin Huskey Copyright 2013