To Helen and Charis
By Doug Atkins; Written in the early 1970s (douglas.atkins@btopenworld.com)

        

   Outstretched arms that hold me tight.
   Tired little hands that wave goodnight.
   A gentle kiss, a silent prayer,
   Precious moments hard to bear,
   For I must leave while others sleep,
   Not knowing what the night will reap.
   One hundred souls are mine alone,
   With little children like my own.
   All false glamour long since lost,
   No foolish risks at such a cost.
   Oh, dear God, do I ask too much 
   To let us feel again the touch
   Of loved ones waiting just for us;
   All much too brave to make a fuss.

 

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