The Soldier and His Son p.2

They opened up the creaking door
And took a step inside
The decrepit, silent, lonely home
In which they did reside

The floor cried out with every step
The pungent smell of mold
Crept into their noses
As they passed through the threshold

Neither the soldier nor his son
Could conjure in their mind
When last the house was cleaned
By the one now unconfined

They made their way in silence
To their spartan living room
The soldier lit a candle
So they could see through the gloom

The soldier sat in his old chair
And slowly closed his eyes
Every now and then, he raised his hand
To swat away the flies

The boy sat on the creaking floor
And stared into the dark
The difference that a mother makes
Had never been so stark

The soldier sighed and rose again
To make something to eat
The same thing that they always had
The remains of last years wheat

A bland meal, but quite enough
To feed a growing child
And sure enough, a filling meal
Although the taste was mild

After that, the two then rose
With sadness overrun
And shedding tears sulked off to bed
The soldier and his son

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