I’d not forgotten his face
Or the sound of his voice
I’d not forgotten his smile
My heart gave me no choice
I would close my eyes
And count to ten
And have the crystal clear dream
I’d wake up from again
But I’m not asleep anymore
There’s warmth from the sun
And bad times are over
This war is now done
He’s coming home
After all this time
He’s coming home
At long last, he’s mine
It might take a while
To finally feel free
But he’s coming home soon
He’s coming home to me
Things In My Head 
Beautiful poem, but I cannot help but think of all the ones who did not come home….
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I agree completely. A few years back, I wrote a play that was all about the men who didn’t come home. Just lately, I was involved in a creative/ performance project where the emphasis was on the positive side. i.e the homecoming and all the men who made it back. It took a huge shift in my thinking to do this. It was very difficult to see the positive side but I’m glad I was challenged in that way. Thank you for your comment Carol, much appreciated.
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It truly is expressed beautifully… you are kindly welcome
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