On a pleasant summer evening In nineteen sixty nine We were sitting in the parlor And everything was fine The telephone began to ring A Mama said, "Hello". We knew the news was bad When her face turned white as snow. She dropped the phone receiver And sagged against the wall And daddy ran to catch her Afraid that she would fall. The caller said that Danny- The oldest of we four Was victim of a sniper On some far and distant shore. He'd said just last October "We'll fish when I get back" But they put him in the chopper In a rubber body sack. The life went out of Mama She never smiled again She'd cry out in her sleep at night And she grew pale and thin. We buried her in winter- Beside where Danny lies And sometime in the moonlight I can almost hear her cries. That sniper in the jungle Just saw a soldier fall- But when he pulled the trigger- I guess he killed us all. Now every time the telephone Out in the parlor rings We all grow still and silent And tears our eyelids sting. And there hangs Mama's picture By Danny's on the wall Dead from a sniperís bullet- And she from one phone call.
i can tell that your'e still hurting after all of this time. believe me when i say that i can relate to your poem in a painful way that you might understand. when my father died, my grandmother was so empty inside that the only thing she looked forward to was being reunited with her son when her time came. i believe that when it did three summers ago that only then was she happy. your poem brought tears to my eyes.
Wow...I am speachless. This is perhaps one of the best poems I've seen posted. SO personal, so sad, flawless in it's meter and rhyme. I'm sorry for your loss, but this despite it's sadness is a wonderful piece of art.