Home on Furlough.

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  • Loss

    Home on Furlough.

    I a little fusilier home on furlough
    home to rest and eat to swell
    with my musket in my little pocket
    and my boots treading the wet grasses.

    I'm back to the mud house on furlough
    to feel the fresh air in my lungs
    and watch the sun go to sleep
    and the moon rise to lighten the night.

    I'm back to the loving town
    away from the bloody field of sorrow
    where you watch your comrade fall
    and smile as others sleep in slumber.

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    Savant commented on Home on Furlough.

    10-12-2009

    This piece makes me appreciate the armed forces. It makes me smile to think of them getting rest, getting a break from "the madness". Thanks for the trip.
    Reply to Comment

    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    fiksy’s Poems (12)

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