When you come back from the war

When you come back from war,
Bring the spoils to my door;
Not a gemstone or chord
That you chopped with your sword,
But the memory, ignored,
Of our one favorite word.
Bring the you I adored
Before battle's cry roared
And the itch left you bored.
I'm just trying to record
Who you were. What you wore
When you showed me your sore
And we talked of before.
It was never a chore,
We're connected, I'm sure,
(And I miss you, much more
Than I should; to my core.)