I miss the feel of your hand holding mineI miss your voice in my ear
I miss the feel of your cheek against mine
I miss having you right here.
Like Penelope in old Ithaca
Waiting for love to come home
I spend my days on the duties of life
My nights gazing cross the foam
I know you must do what you’ve gone to do,
I know it’s bigger than me
Though I sit here alone, night after night,
Weeping salt tears in the sea.
Come home from the wars, my Odysseus,
Come back to my lonely arms
Let my heart pillow your dear, weary head
Away from all of war’s harms.
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