You may be wondering why the title isn't English. Well, I got the inspiration from an entirely unrelated song ("Plakala", by Divokej Bill) which has the lyrics "se nevráti". The song's meaning is pretty... okay, very... different, but the lyric inspired me to write this. I might keep doing this; this is fun.

She sits on the porch, wood smooth against her legs,

And watches the last drops of sunlight fade from the horizon

As God paints the sky in the darkest and most beautiful of hues.

Her son rests on her lap, down-soft hair against her fingers,

Eyes closed as he dreams of the days to come.

She draws him closer to her, as if she can protect him from what she will have to say.

The lights of the town are bright in the distance, rivalling the stars above,

But only the cool fragrance of the night greets her.

She is grateful that the city smog cannot reach her child

With its insidious, twisting fingers,

But she cannot help but long for a different scent,

One that has lingered in her mind if not in her home.

The sweet, soothing hint of cedar that often hovered about

When her husband wrapped his arms around her

Is now long gone, replaced with the greasy odor of cheap meals.

And she leans against the beam, noticing how the white paint of the balustrade flakes away

Remembering the day the two of them worked on it together.

Her son had just been born, his wide blue eyes watching

As his mother and father laughed together,

Their hope brighter than the morning sky.

She wonders now whether the memory or the paint will fade first.

With a sigh, she stands, tucking her boy close to her chest as she walks inside.

Every night she has sat outside, waiting; it has become a ritual as solemn as prayer,

Striving to hear the dog tags jingle above the whistling wind.

But the night is mercilessly silent,

And although she has cried out for her husband, her love, her son's father,

He will not return.