by Robert L. Hinshaw
She rocked Danny nigh the window in her rocking chair,|
Cuddled him closely and hummed an ancient Irish air.
As she gazed thro' the window at the vast horizons beyond,
She pondered her prcious gift and the closeness of their bond.
Anon, she stood by the window as he played upon the lawn,
Watching as he romped and gamboled as sprightly as a fawn!
She waved from the window each morn as he left for school,
And stood there after school to greet her precious jewel.
From the window Mother treasured so many precious scenes,
As Danny advanced from his childhood and on thro' his teens;
Playing with his old pal Shep, washing his very first car,
Sitting on the porch with his sweetie, strumming his guitar.
In a foreign land strife began and he volunteered to serve;
He felt it his solemn obligation, America's freedoms to preserve.
Thro' the window Mother sadly watched him march away;
"Bring my boy safely home, Dear God", she was heard to pray.
She sat by the window, praying he would walk thro' the door,
To clasp her to his breast and leave her side no more.
She gasped seeing soldiers thro' the window coming up the drive;
They were saddened to inform her that Danny did not survive.
Copyright © 2006 - Robert L. Hinshaw
Published: 1/17/08 · Author's Page · Next Poem