Purple Heart

By Alma Robison Higbee

A symbol of his bravery, they said,
But I remember him with laughing eyes
And see the meadow where his feet have sped
As he and his dog played under these peaceful skies,
The little black dog that will ever be a part
Of the boy who fought … and won a purple heart.

No longer a need to wait for the postman’s call;
I shall not write that the little brown wren is back,
And yet, I wait for his footsteps in the hall
Though the house has grown as sad as each day’s lack,
For purple hearts are lonely, useless things
for eager boys whose youthful dreams had wings.

(1953)