by Linda Ann Nickerson

Created on: March 28, 2008

THE POSTCARD

A single postcard, nothing much,
A simple note to keep in touch.
One stamp, and it is on the way
Without much room, not much to say.

Yet this epistle carried more,
For he had promised, long before,
To hold her visage in his view
Long after he donned Navy blue.

They waited at the boarding gate,
Both vowing boldly they would wait.
The ship embarked on its campaign,
And disappeared upon the main.

This proven vessel took a hit
And vanished in the briny pit.
Her love remained without a word,
Although in time, his memory blurred.

She wed and bred and raised a child,
But ne'er forgot the way he'd smiled.
He'd promised her that he would write,
Before he sailed that autumn night.

One morning, as she combed her hair,
Which tangled silver, fine and fair,
The letterman brought her a note
With picture of a Navy boat.

She flipped the picture over fast
To read the writing, there at last.
In just six words, he'd spoken true.
"Coming home early. I love you."

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