Jennifer Chuang

And They Have Left Me

Drip, drop, drip, drop,
The raindrops pound the cold tin roof
In some forsaken forest.
I am a prisoner of this cruel war,
A soldier lost, far from home.
They left me after I was shot.
A man tended me for awhile,
But soon left me to die.
I limped aimlessly in the pouring rain,
Until I found this small cabin.
It was bare except for a small cot
Which I assumed was home to all sorts of vermin.
There was also a first aid kit
Tucked away in a dark corner.
I took out some tweezers and
As I pulled out the bullet,
The searing pain that jetted out from my leg
Made me wish I was dead.
I then proceeded to wrap my leg with a bandage from the kit.
Now I sit outside on the steps,
Under this crashing rain,
Just pondering about the grayness.
How often I have lain out in the rain,
Thinking about home,
Thinking about my wife and children,
Thinking about how long I have,


Copyright 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.