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Foster’s “A Stroll in the Moonlight”



Image by Анита Морган from Pixabay

In 1963, Yazoo native Dongieux Foster was dreaming of his return to his home in Mississippi after serving our country in the United States Army. 

His military service had taken him on harrowing missions all over the world, fighting for the lives and freedoms of the loved ones he had left behind.

However, no matter where military duties took Foster he always held on to the life and loves he had left behind. Those loves and the anticipation of returning to the life he left behind sustained him all those years.

Unfortunately, high expectations occasionally lead to great disappointment, even for the bravest and best.


As we stroll together in the moonlight
with an erie glow to guide our way
to the crest of a small grassy knoll
where we sat and talked till day

we swore to each other a sacred vow
our love would last till the end of time
and the moon and stars fade away
and the sun then would cease to shine

we pledged to be true to each other
and none could ever come between
we would hold dearly till my return
and once again our love will be seen

the days slowly faded into yesterday
absence made my love grow stronger
till it was finally time for my return
and my dreams would wait no longer

I sent her a letter that I was coming home
meet me at the station and don’t be late
with the angels to guide us this day
on the bus I hope will arrive at eight

I was off the bus could hardly wait
to the waiting room and looked around
all those faces but she was not there
I called her name but never a sound

I waited and waited but no one came
with a heavy heart I continued on home
all the family was gathered around
filled with cheer but all joy was gone

she only waited a few days they said
and had already found someone new
seems she couldn’t stand to be alone
and later before the alter she said I do

now she is a wife and mother of three
and I must travel this lonely road alone
in search of a love to heal a broken heart
and bring back the dreams that are gone

Written By
Dongieux Foster
April, 1963

This is the eleventh poem in a series that 85-year-old Dongieux Foster of Satartia has allowed us to share with our readers.

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