It stood tall for many years,

Seen a lot of happiness, heartache, and tears.

Its branches held shade and drifted in the breeze

In the fall, it grew multi-colored leaves.

It was a mighty oak: seen many a picnic, many a tear,

And now she stood underneath wishing he were here.

He was a soldier. Come through town in the summer of “49,

All decked out in his uniform looking so fine.

Had a church social that day and he was a stranger in these parts,

But it did not matter much for that day he captured her heart.

He asked her to dance when the band began to play,

It was Miller and the Boy’s they were big in the day.

Oh, what a lively tune they had struck up,

When his arms held her, she fell in love.

They were inseparable all that day and into the night,

He left her by the oak tree at first light.

A week he would be here in town, only a week,

Picnics under the oak tree, a game of lover’s hide and seek,

Sometimes just lying in the grass, loving and a quiet talk,

Or taking the wooded path going for a walk.

The town folk whispered behind her back, she knew,

But she was so much in love, there was nothing she could do.

It was time. Under the oak tree, he held her so tight,

He had to leave tomorrow night.

“Wait for me, I will come back for you, indeed I will,”

Twenty years later she waited for him still.

She lived her life in quiet solitude, but not really alone,

A child was born, a son to call her own.

As he grew so much, like his father he looked,

And the tears she cried, oh how her body shook.

She had never been with another,

No one could ever replace her one -time lover.

A soldier passing through, ships in the night,

Wandering aimlessly through what was left of her life.

Their son was grown moved away, a life of his own,

Under the oak tree, she lay all alone.

Tears she cried, a rainbow's worth of tears,

She was not sad for waiting so many years,

Just for memories of times they shared together

And the not knowing, what happened to their forever.

“I told you I would return just did not know this late in life,

Is it too late to ask you to be my wife?”

She had no words she could not speak for her thumping heart,

Eyes held, oh what to say, where to start.

A prisoner of war, loss of memory a healing phase,

Wandering through the war zone life in a daze.

He helped her up from the hard, cold, ground,

And still, she looked not making a sound.

He was too late, maybe it was just not meant to be,

He turned to walk away, he was a forgotten memory.

“Come back,” she cried, please do not leave me again,

I do not want you to go and do not care where you have been.”

“I waited for you for so many years, you are my heart, my life,

Yes, yes, yes, I will forever be your wife.”

Though age had caught both of them they had a few years together,

Son had a father now, a family for the rest of forever.

© Cynthia Clark