Standing
Looking down on the valley,
Searching for our home,
The rain drizzling and pattering my face,
I huddle to my father,
And he wraps his arm around me.
We stand in silence,
Watching smoke drifting from cottage chimneys.

I feel my father’s arm tighten,
And his kiss on my hair,
A tear brims in my eye
And then falls onto the muddy ground
Where my welly boots are planted.
I look up at my father’s understanding eyes,
And see that he is close to crying.
He hugs me, we become closer than ever.
He tells me to be brave but it is hard
As my tears cascade freely down my cheeks.
He shall be gone in the morning,
And I shall be wishing that I had gone with him.
I hug him, breathing in his familiar smell, burying my nose in his coat,
Sniffing, then wiping my nose, embarrassed.
He takes my chin and I stare into his eyes looking at my reflection,
And then I hug him once more
And I know that this is goodbye,
But he shall come home again.

As we trudge home, I grip his hand,
Never wanting to let go, but I have to.
But I know that I shall hold it again, someday.