Come Back To Us My General

Art "Mother And Child"
By Hughes Merle



When Love Comes Marching Home
By La Belle Rouge

Another Winter has now passed
Another year the bloody curse of war
So hungry and exhausted, our brave soldiers
yet still rememberin what they’re fightin for
His letters came less and less until finally
they ceased to warm heart and body with words
Rumors of defeat, murdered families, burned homes
and idle fields, all our tired ears ever heard
Oh how my soul feels burned to nothin as well
what once was a genteel garden of heaven
has become a desolate harbinger of hell
Where are you My General, My Own True Love?
I sit alone on a dilapidated, decaying veranda
and wish upon tens of millions of stars above
that you’ll come home, and hold me once again
The lane is filled with homeward-bound warriors
once proud but now grief stricken, broken men
I search their forms and all their haggard faces
wishin, prayin that one of them will be you
bringin back to me love’s freedom and the traces
of better times sweet soft music and gardenias too
Memories of a stormy riverbank Summer tryst
where delicate orchid wrapped around stout oak
and the earth shook with each fiery kiss

No longer do I glide in hoops down the stairs
no longer revel in being the beautiful belle
blushing so coyly, displaying my feminine wares
Gone now forever the blessin of a life without cares
No longer fine silk frocks and intimate white lace
lines from workin sun scorched fields desecrate fair face
Now plain muslin dress covers all my luscious lady curves
and cotton scarf hides the fire of my red hair
money is only money and if you were here I’d not care
if we walked or rode in a fine English horse pulled carriage
I have borne the scandal and your fine strong son
without your presence, support or benefit of marriage
But I do not regret, no not for one single breath
that night by the riverbank before for war you left

So perfect and gentle the son of our loins has been
in my heart you alone held me close, when deserted by my kin
Soon you will return and kiss his cherubic cheek
this love child born of love, tender and meek
Little hands so chubby will reach out and curl around yours
you’ll run your fingers though his auburn curls so soft
and then you’ll know though you’ve walked though hell
the finer things in life we have never forfeited or lost
Soon so soon, once again I’ll be sheltered in your arms
and there will end all my grief, all dread of life’s harms
My Darling General, we wait for you and dawn of new day
when the sorrows of dark night’s war will at last pass away





2/15/2007 La Belle Rouge

“Poetry, Soul Whispers”