tagNon-Erotic PoetryWho's Concern

Who's Concern


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.

Report Story

byUnderYourSpell© 1 comments/ 2384 views/ 0 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments (1 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (1)

Add a

Post a public comment on this submission (click here to send private anonymous feedback to the author instead).

Post comment as (click to select):

Refresh ImageYou may also listen to a recording of the characters.

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: