A loving teardrop fell
on the aging photograph,
and stained a handsome, smiling face,
a picture from the past.
She gently touched the fading Rose
pressed lovingly by his face,
in the weathered and aging album
she kept in a special place.
He was her wartime lover
from a war so long ago.
It was the war to end all wars,
or at least they told them so.
He had left the Rose on his last day
of a hard earned, last furlough;
they had embraced for a desperate hour,
before he had to go.
And, in leaving her, he smiled
and promised to return.
His entire unit was overrun
was what she later learned.
She later bore a handsome son
who looked just like his dad,
with auburn hair and smiling face
he was a princely, handsome lad.
She had never chosen to marry,
though it had been many a year,
her heart stopped once upon a time,
and once upon a tear.