The Colonel after meeting is son sits in houses porch writing a long recount of his home arrival.
And then...

My deareast of dearest that is what I felt coming back to you.



I got your tears on my uniform chest like ribbons
to remind me of what in your letters had in mind,
the words that were callings from a river’s soul
that kept on flowing, murmurs of a lonely sacrifice;
then I finally was there, all seemly so worthy,
when on the porch you came into my arms at last,
your “Welcome Home” make me a less tired rider
and will you believe, the hair on my head less white?

Like a bolt of lightning suddenly did you remember,
a blushing maiden, breathless you took my hand
with a mischievous look saying, “come, you will see…”
pulling me towards the house like an exited child,
and we went taking two and two steps up the stairs
and to a closed door you didn’t walk, you did ran,
at that moment your happy movements where more
like those of a proud mother becoming a butterfly.

I expected to enter a room of a sleeping little angel,
my son, yes my son was sitting there to my surprise
like he knew who was coming waiting in curiosity
a peaceful cherubic face showing of being not afraid
of the stranger making his entrance in his chambers
an appearance of a gray vested serious old gentleman
that mother said it was his most beloved father,
and, all seemly well, his blue eyes gave me a smile.

I asked, my beloved Belle, if taking him up I could,
flustering you took our son and placed him in my arms,
opening my mouth to call his name I did realized
that I didn’t knew his, that the war stopped giving one,
and I searched inside your tearful eyes for the answer
but you were too happy for my question understand,
you were back and through the forest to the river
when all it happened, the only wish granted by God.

In his room, taking all in, the view of tranquility
and that special perfume that follows every child,
my eyes didn’t get tired of contemplating, my son
deciding it was safe to sleep wrapped in my arms;
I didn’t knew if he could hear my whispering voice,
but I said, “you wouldn’t be no soldier, my little one,
your father did all the fighting there is to fight, because
nowhere is an honor to kill the son of another man…”

Yours more than ever
The Colonel


PS: A final write, only for your eyes, you will read when you awake in a few hours and I can understand that everything has been not a dream.
C.