The Soldier and his Son

On the lonely countryside

Under the blistering sun

There stood the solemn home

Of the soldier and his son
The son played gayly in the field

The father sat in his chair

A man of hardly any words

And even fewer hairs
The man looked out upon his lands

Stripped barren by the heat

A dry and des’late scene now stood

Where once stood fields of wheat
He never was much of a farmer

He never claimed to know

How best to till the soil 

Or inspire his crops to grow
Their stockpile, though, was still quite full

They had sustenance to spare

Though this was mostly on account

Of the one who wasn’t there
The sun crept slowly down the sky

And soon dusk had arrived

The soldier raised his withered hand

And beckoned his son inside
The boy came running merrily

A smile draped ‘cross his face

His arms flailed wildly at his sides

In a sort of clumsy grace
The soldier grimaced as he rose

And braced against his cane

Soon he was upon his feet

Though not without some pain
They walked inside their placid house

For their time outside was done

And so they sauntered, hand in hand

The soldier and his son

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