And the blues took me in their fold
as i gazed at green-brown meadows.
Moving my lips in silent prayer,
hoping for thy return.

Shall you come, dear folk,
bearing a suitcase and victory in face.
We shall sip the olden wine
and have homemade bread.

Not too soon a radio played,
about an unprepared attack.
About how your blood now stains the heather,
turning the world black.

You did return
however, not hopping o'er the hills,
but packed in a coffin case.
Your face so pale and oh so fair.

I gave thee a kiss on the forehead
and raised a glass of the olden wine,
as tears rolled down my cheek into the glass,
i did not know if it was the wine or my tears i sipped

but i smiled and sang hallelujah
for the victory you conquered, though losing yourself amid.
but i will still be hoping for thy return
for i lost myself too.
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Author's note:
Well i wrote this one for a poetry challange, based on vintage theme or you may say Shakespeare or campbell theme lol.