I sit here writing by footlight
Not candle light or lamp light
But dim, squalid footlight.
Listening to the same words
Over and over, again and again.
The cannons pounding ever louder
Beating my mind, numbing all thought
Swirling and twirling in my head.
Mine eyes yearning for sleep.
Dreams floating in and out my mind
Hovering, barely out of reach.
Oh – how I long to be held!
Secure in his strong, loving arms;
To drift and dream or love at will.
These visions, these – things
Haunt me; till I want to Scream!
As I sit here writing by footlight.