Rookie (01/13/1940 / BLUE DIAMOND KY)

The Face - Poem by CHARLES BAILEY

I left home when I was only thirteen
The farm life I thought was not for me
I've returned, I stand here looking in the window
Hopeing that the darkness will hide me.

The fire in the grate is brightly burning
The old one room shack still looks the same
I wait and listen, through the broken window
Then I hear my mother speak my name

'Dad' she said 'I often think of Charlie
When his little arms would hold me tight'
'I know' he said 'That's why I watch the meadow
From early dawn until the last twilight'

I wanted to rush in and kiss them
Tell them that I'd come home to stay
But I knew, inside, it would hurt them more
To see me the way I am today.

My mind keeps telling me to go now
Let them keep their memories
The war has left me less than a man
This thing that's called a face they must not see

As I slowly walk down through the meadow
I turn to look at the house once more
The tears in my eyes, makes me realize
I must never return anymore

The war has left me less than a man
I must never return anymore

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, October 20, 2007

Poem Edited: Monday, April 18, 2011

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