The Returned Man
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!