Saigon Park

By: Paul H Moore

Distant lands I now do roam
The faintest murmur, calling me home
Then louder still - and surely so
My trip is over and this I know
I must return to my windswept land
Still I remember that tiny hand
The time it came to say "good-bye"
A silhouette left in my mind's eye
The future dream it has turned dark
On that rainy day in Saigon park