PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Tolling two a.m., the clock sounds.

Reverberating through the heavy dark.

A little girl sits at her window.

The only one to hear the bells "hark."



Staring silently at the stars,

Her tears fall from sad eyes.

She wonders where her father went

And if he's gone to his demise.



Her head lifted to the heavens.

Her hands did she clench quite tight.

To the almighty God

Did she pray with all her might.



Dear Lord, although I'm little,

Please listen to my prayer.

My father is out there fighting a war

For something he said was rare.



He said this thing called freedom

Would allow me to speak my mind,

And worship you O Lord,

And to everyone be kind.



He said that one day, when I grow up,

I'll know exactly why he fought.

That "freedom" is so important

His life he'd give for it to be bought.





But Lord, I'm not grown up

And I cannot understand

How my father could leave his family

And fight in some foreign land.



Lord please bring home my father,

That he may be safe and here with me.

I know that may be selfish,

But I've missed him so much lately.



My brother fought this war also

His life was taken there and I can't understand.

They said it was pride for our country and ourselves.

They said it was time they took a stand.  



I know that my brother will never return

And my father may never come home.

But if my father does die out there,

Please don't let him die alone.



Give him someone to hold him close.

To rock him in their arms.

And softly guide him to heaven's gate

Where no longer will he fear harm.



But Lord, if it is possible,

Don't let the death bell ring,

So my father won't enter heaven

And take up his angelic wings.



Amen.