I stumbled up rocky steeps.
I slipped on icy ridges and I fell.
I peered into heavy darkness; still, lonely night.
I searched the fog-shrouded river
And listened for a distant steamer's wail.
I held my breath and listened and looked
But he was not there.
He was gone.
Today I went looking for my son.
I searched along a brook that ambled over
Time-smoothed pebbles and treasures of arrowheads,
I sat on a low stone wall and waited.
I listened to a blue jay scolding.
I looked on city streets and in the schoolyards.
I saw a tiny, happy tot
Spellbound by a yellow butterfly
That danced around his silken, gold-red hair.
But that was yesterday.
I heard of Vietnam and him
And although by the grace of God, he is here,
I cannot find him.
Perhaps someday he will come looking for me
And I will not be here.
I will be gone.Contact Alyce Faye Bragg at alycef...@citlink.net or write to 2556 Summers Fork Road, Ovapa, WV 25164.