Like the last leaf of autumn I cling to you,
everything grows cold, what else can I do?
Stark and black are the days up ahead,
I refuse to believe that you are dead.
Your arms enfold me when I’m asleep,
you brush away my tears when I weep.
I hear your voice when I wake at night,
whispering that everything will be alright.
Your clothes still lay there on the chair,
your favourite sweater you always wear.
I swear that it still feels warm to me.
You can’t be dead, how could that be?
That man said that you saved your friend,
that you drove first around that bend.
He said it was quick, you wouldn’t know,
you wouldn’t have heard the land mine blow.
Three days ago you were stood right there
smiling and laughing and ruffling my hair.
Saying you’d be home as soon as you can
and things weren’t so bad in Afghanistan.
I know I have to face saying goodbye.
I will stand there proud and hold my head high
because I know you hated to see my tears
but this is the worst of army wives fears.