Emblazoned with medals,
Greeted with awe,
The soldier walks towards home
As he bids adieu to war.
His hands are bruised,
His face a scarred mess,
Yet the smile refuses to fade
As he walks home at the fastest pace.
His daughter whom he met,
A wee little runt then,
Awaits her father’s steps
Her now youthful face, filled with pain.
His wife the once lovey bride,
Colors her grey streaks black,
She tries to hide the long gone hope
Of her husband coming back.
The soldier walks through the lanes,
Grateful for his feet,
As many a men he saw destroyed;
Their bodies a gory mass, with no chance of retreat.
The war was lost
But he was alive
And that’s what matters most.
Until he saw a mass of people,
Rushing towards his frail soul
They called him a traitor, stoning him to death
Adding one more life to the rising toll.
The soldier lay on those very roads,
The ones which led back home;
His daughter still awaited his footsteps
While his wife realized that he’d never reach their abode.