Fall to winter
Winter to spring
Not seeing one’s beloved
Is quite a peculiar thing.

It’ll be eighty years this month,
Correct me if I’m wrong,
Since a handsome man walked past me,
Whistling a song.

He was an old soul,
This boy, I could see it in his eyes,
Looking for a home,
Somewhere to reside.

Dressed in a crisp uniform
A soldier yet to be,
Not seeking recognition,
But he sure impressed me.

Wanting his attention,
I walked opposite the street,
Little did I know,
He too wanted to meet.

He closed the distance, rather swift
He approached me, looking shy
I introduced myself,
Staring directly into his clear blue eyes.

From then on, I loved him.
That’s the hardest part,
The life as a soldier’s beloved,
Nearly broke my heart.

Awaiting the letters made me anxious,
I was a wreck when left alone.
I couldn’t handle this new life,
Living on my own.

But when he was home,
I felt ashamed
For I was the only person,
Who could be blamed.




For he still loved me,
Greater then I would ever know.
So much so that upon his return,
He brought a ring in tow.

Delighted I was,
For even though this seemed so fast,
I was completely confident
That our love would last.

The wedding was in fall.
It was a classy affair.
The honeymoon was beautiful,
I didn’t have a care.

Just when my life was perfect,
I got a wake-up call.
World War two had just begun,
My perfect life, about to fall.

He made a promise then and there,
He’d be back before I missed him
All too soon it seemed to be,
The last time I ever kissed him.

Two weeks after his departure,
I got another call.
And then just as I predicted,
I was no longer standing tall.

My beloved was killed at war.
Breaking my heart in two,
Our days as a wedded couple
Were just too few.

So here I was again,
Living on my own.
The only difference now,
I truly was alone.