An Unfinished Letter**** Poem by Neil Young

mother's curtains drawn against the night... frigid air anticipates the siren song

by lamplight she writes to him... dearest… her muddled days and rationed love pour out
small talk calms the nerves... she thinks... now their punctured lives have grown less ordinary
sirens stall her mid-sentence... another air raid... how awful she thinks... very…

baby in her arms... she finds the cellar cramped... damp air cold against her cheeks
baby sleeps oblivious... not yet one... not yet walking... she thinks... stalling on a word
the page before her waits for news... and in spite of thunder falling... she slips into a dream

outside embers light the way... tomorrow finds her letter trembling like a weak pulse in the wind