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Union Soldier’s Lament
I feared, my dear, not seeing you again
but hid my passion from the public eye.
You took my hand before I took the train.
I did not kiss your lips nor hold you nye.
I did not know the torment in your breast
held close in silence as you failed to write
a word, while I anguished there without rest
as I lay lonely on my cot at night.
I scrawled a letter in reflected light
on paper snatched from flames before it burned.
I sent my payroll home when I could write;
eight days to reach you; but no note returned.
I made it home in two years more, alive
While you, our children all were gone in five.
Sonnet by Ruth Zachary© Dec. 2008
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