THEY thought that he would come back
Quieter,
Less boyish,
But still a hero with tales to tell.
So, when there were no tales,
Only blank silences —
When he lay for hours
Staring through leafing branches
And forgot them
Utterly —
They tried to arouse him, saying:
“The war is over.”
But when he turned on them
His shadowed eyes
They stammered —
Knowing that they lied!