Where Have All The Soldier’s Gone …

She stands by the door,

A silent, forlorn shadow,

Abandoned by those she cherished,

Her silent dreams bitter memories,

The wind is chilly, oh so chilly,

Though the night air is warm.

Her cheeks are rosy and damp,

Though her parched eyes shed no tears

There is rain and moonlight reflected within

The stormy depths of blue-green,

Her gown of deepest mourning

Billows gently against her bare legs,

Cherry blossoms and vanilla

So soft a fragrance on a breeze

The breeze of light-hearted spring

Faded into steamy summer

But that died out like the passion

That had existed between them

And now autumn, sleepy autumn,

Is freezing around her soul of ice,

Her hands are clasped before her,

Her heart shattered within her chest,

Her mind is broken too,

She is jaded, broken, shattered and lost

Beyond repair,

The telegram crumpled on the desk,

Crumpled and rumpled like her silent dreams,

She is weeping inside,

Though no more than a phantom

As she stands her eternal vigil

Beside the door he left from

The door he cannot return to

The door he slammed as he left

And she is wilting like the roses

The roses that symbolized their love

Their love that has come to a tragic end.