Tho you’re many miles away,
too far for me to hear you pray,
I hear a voice within me say,
that you’re praying for me.
Tho shells burst around my feet
I know that someday the rendezvous I’ll keep.
will be with one who prays herself to sleep.
Please keep praying for me.
Thoughts mean a lot and letters mean more
to a fellow on some foreign shore.
But the thing that seems to hush the cannon roar is to know you’re praying for me.
The War isn’t over as everyone knows, and crosses continue to mark more rows.
But I’ll return to the one I chose,
‘Cause she’s praying for me.
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Comments about this poem (Your Prayers by Burt Poole )
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