The Fighting One

In thinking of our female soldiers who sometimes seem to go unnoticed or at least not thanked as much as I think they should be, I wrote these words, from what I thought could be the viewpoint of a man, at home, waiting...
The Fighting One

Off the grid,
unknown to most,
he lives his life
in quiet solitude

Each day he walks to
his sacred place to
remember his lost one

His days drift by,
months turn to
years and still
keeps his hope
alive

And on a full
moon's blessed night,
his dream becomes
reality, when tapping
on the windowsill is
no longer only the wind

Opening the door
with gun in hand,
to meet what darkness
holds, he sees in
moonlight's shadowy
glow, his reason for
existence

He wonders if his
eyes deceive, can
he trust them or
is this a ghost of
the night

But when her lips
call out his name
in whispered velvet
softness, he knows,
he knows, at last he
knows, for her eyes
tell the story,
home at last,
the war is over..

She's served her
country faithfully
and for that we
should all be grateful

Lynn West
(c) 2013