Will Be

A Poem by Sophia

Oh Brooklyn's son I'm praying for you
From far away east coast of sun's dew
In my rackety bedpost I'm on bitter tears
For you my darling listen if you hear

Your maiden's calling in sweet melody
Not a pin drop of your voice dear
You're away and be gone
I'm waiting till you come
Melancholy resides in the part of your bed
Tracing these needles to country of white men
When will be, will be

You won the battle over and over
But the war is not far over here
Come home, come home
It's been far too long
I couldn't take more days of alone
If you hear do listen
To the sweet call of your maiden