At eighteen duty called to go to a far off place,
we said we’d always wait for each other,
no matter how long, we would have to wait.
The year turned into five, before I came home.
Things had changed, someone else you had found,
while my life was moulded to, and I saw a different you.
The carefree life we both had,
disappeared as the years came round,
our goals were now different bound,
and too many things had passed before our eyes.
I smiled sweetly when I saw you;
your smile back was just as sweet.
He stood at your arm to let the world know,
you were spoken for, not free anymore.
I just nodded as I passed on by,
and you could not see the tears leak from my eyes.
War is not a beautiful thing,
with heroes in a Hollywood show.
It makes men age each day,
their eyes will testify, how I know.
The youthful zest no longer smiles,
only the old man’s sorrowing soul.
They come back a broken person,
whose lives have been altered so.
They come home only to find,
the old life has been robbed as well,
that old torches they used to carry,
are gone from them as well.
I moved on hoping never to return,
saying I’ll keep in touch, but will never do.
Like a nomad, I begin my endless trek,
as I want to get away from here and you.
More years pass on the way;
I find someone and settle down.
Then comes a letter to say you are free,
will I come and see,
but I look around at all I’ve got,
my life that on a solid rock stands,
but the calling is so great,
I have to go back to where I’ve been.
At the station, I see your face,
time has hurt you so,
worse that the war hurt me,
but I just had to know.
I smile, but it is only a courtesy call,
I’ve got a new life elsewhere.
We talk about the old times,
long before I went away.
You know it’s not the same between us,
that soon I’ll be on my way.
You’ve been hurt the way I was once,
but you also know, that I can’t stay.
The day goes on and we reminisce,
we smile and laugh about the days we miss.
Soon the train is in the station;
our hands linger to the touch.
I have a new life now; we will never be the same.
She stands there with our son,
with open beckoning arms;
we rush to meet each other,
our bodies held in an embrace.
She asks how things went;
I smile and simply say, there are no returns.