The Bride

She stands there at the doorway,
Watching every approaching face,
Searching for the face, she last saw,
On the day she was in silk and lace.

That day is still vivid in her memory,
When she was taken into a man’s life,
The pride that made her heart swell,
When she became a soldier’s wife.

The very next day the war began,
A war fought for the sake of peace.
“A soldier first, a husband next”, he said,
“I have to go and fight till the guns cease.”

She gave a husband to fight a war
With persons whom she did not hate.
Now she waits for him to return,
Knowing that it is in the hands of fate.

Many a mother have given their sons,
To die for the motherland of everyone.
Sons, born to a fathers face, unknown,
Nor do they realize they shall not come.

As she waits for him to return home,
In person, either in life, or in death,
The post man becomes her daily friend,
Lest her husband sneak up to her in stealth.

17th October 2003

~Aditya