Thursday, 24 April 2014

SING TO ME, MOTHER...

SING TO ME, MOTHER...



Sing to me, Mother, just one more time
Sing to me of the gentle breezes
That dance among the eucalypts
Sing to me of shivery grasses - waving in the sun
I long for the smell of the bush
And clear blue skies over hot, golden sands..
How I miss the trill of magpies
The laugh of the kookaburras
Even the dust storms, blowing in from the west.

Sing to me, Mother, of the gentle rains
The smell of new mown grass.
I need your gentle voice to warm me
For I am cold, and shaking
I can't get warm, I need your arms around me..
I lay here on a beach of stone
While all around me, young men fall.
It's dark still, but dawn is coming
Though not for me.
Take me home, dear Mother
I'm coming home.

(c) Crissouli April 2014

not limited by licence

ANZAC DAY
April 25, 1915

4 comments:

  1. Beautiful moving poem Chris. Chilling how many of our brave young men would have felt like that.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Robyn. I often think of how lonely and lost they must have felt when they knew they wouldn't go home again.

      Delete
  2. Oh so beautiful... had me crying xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Catherine... hope the tears are now wiped away. I just hope they who passed know somehow that they are remembered.

      Delete

Your comment will be visible once approved. Thank you.