Beneath a cloak of indigo where night-birds soon will fly,
I stop and watch the fiery sunset lighting up the sky.
Where I've been I never saw the night look quite so grand,
for all the sunsets blended in to hills of desert sand....

I'm driving my old ute with my past life packed in a bag
(a pleasant change from army trucks or sleeping in a swag).
I hear the rustle of the trees and entertain the thought
that they are saying “welcome home” from battles I have fought.

The road ahead is reminiscent of a domino --
a chequered coat in black and white reflected in the glow.
The rhythmic crunch of tyres on the hardened rock and loam
speaks to me of feather quilts, serenity, and home.

I stand before the door and contemplate a little while,
delaying that fine moment when I'll see my lady smile.
She'll never know how much the thought of her has filled my heart,
and kept it beating all the time we've had to spend apart.

She stands before me, hesitant to make a move that's wrong --
afraid, like me, to break the spell, for it has been so long.
The months have slowly wound on down, a year I've been away;
and though I had a speech rehearsed, I can't think what to say.

She runs to me and wildly throws her arms around my neck,
kissing all my tears away while hers flow down unchecked.
The tour was never meant to last for more than half a year,
now we must pick the pieces up from when I left her here....

For all of us returning from the Middle-Eastern war,
we can't explain how we have changed from who we were before.
We all went in with purpose, yet have come out feeling lost,
from fighting battles that may never end, at such a cost.

The "Holy" War will stay with every soul who played a part,
by plaguing us with inner wars we know are sure to start;
for though our thoughts of home kept us alive, that desert sand
has left its mark on us in ways we'll never understand.