The Long Way Home

The Long Way Home

The candle burned low in the old chipped plate,
The night was dark, the hour late.
Snow, piled high at the cabin's eaves, reflected the flame
On the cracked window pane.

The cabin was small and almost bare,
Rough shelves, a stove, a bed, a table and chair.
An old wooden chest stood guard by the door,
A bearskin rug, by the bed, on the floor.

A thin bearded man sat,white head bent low,
Intent in his task, not seeing the fast drifting snow.
A stub of a pencil held tight in his fist,
Aged eyes filled wih a teary mist.

" My Darling, I'm writing on this stormy night,
To tell you I'll soon be home to make things right.
The winter's been good, the trapping better;
That's why I'm writing this letter.

I know that I've been gone for a few years too long,
And I know that it's been hard for you and I know that it's wrong,
I know that I promised you that I'd always be there,
But you know that I love you and you know that I care.

The years away have been hard for me too,
But all that I've done, I've done for you.
I've worked and I've saved,I've been all alone,
Just for you and the boys, to build you a home.

Finally, I've made it, success is near,
I'll be home soon, maybe next year.
I'll close by saying " I love you" to you and the boys;
Please tell them that they're my pride and my joy."

The letter was folded, the envelope sealed,
By the door, on the floor, the man kneeled.
Carefully he opened the wooden chest,
And placed his letter, with all the rest.