tagNon-Erotic PoetryWho's Concern

Who's Concern

byUnderYourSpell©

At eighteen years, and headstrong,
I marched away to war,
And left my Mother crying
As she waved beside the door.
The adventure of a lifetime
In laughing groups we went,
From the mills and looms of Lancashire
And the hop-gardens of Kent.
We learned to use the guns of war,
To march with heavy pack,
And fight beside our Brothers,
Who never would come back.
Then, it was the comradeship,
The friends that kept us sane,
Till that lunacy was over
And the few came home again.
My mother kept a vigil
Through all the lonely years
Her letters sometimes reaching me
The paper stained with tears,
But I know that she is waiting
To forgive me all I done
And her loving arms surround me
As she welcomes home her son.

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