Homecoming Poem by Mary Champion

It was a quiet road in wintertime,
naked trees black against a cloudless sky,
crisp grass verges white with sparkling rime.
Nobody saw the figure passing by,
huddled against the cold in shabby coat,
that surely was more suited to the spring,
although his whistle struck a cheerful note
and the smile that lit his face warmed everything.
A witness might observe his quickened pace
as he approached a cottage on the right -
a knock, a twitching of the curtain lace -
then door flung open, verbalised delight.
Safely home from war - their precious boy -
and the quiet road transformed with sounds of joy.