MEMORIES OF HOME

Home at last, safe and sound-
Months of trucks and tents
And sleeping on the ground.

Missiles’ firing overhead-
I came home injured,
Some came home dead.

For our country we sacrifice
Missing births of our children
and time with our wives...

Dust filled days seem like years-
While waiting families
Struggle with fear.

Memories of home to keep us alive,
We've been here too long,
Just trying to survive.

Ambushed convoys, buildings destroyed.
Injured are flown out-
With others are deployed...

1st Sergeants who back home
Coached little league-
Suck down bad coffee to fight the fatigue.

We do it all for the red, white and blue-
Fighting for family, For me and for you...

...And Memories of home.

Tressia
copyright 5/2/05

In honor of all our Armed Forces and their loved ones.

Well said wonderful poem and i would just like to add to the UK Guys and Girls yor doing a great job and we are proud of you. Anna x

What a wonderful tribute

a salute from my heart, It still is not enough..
blessings

This poem was inspired by a customer of mine- who Had just flown in from the war after being released from the hospital- He had been shot in the chest once, gone back for another tour and then the jeep he was riding in was behind a jeep that was blown up and landed on top of his and he was injured yet again. He said He wanted to go back
and finish serving with his comrades but they wouldnt let him.
Just the intesity in his eyes and the depth of feeling I got from this young man in the few moments he was in my office really touched me. I am from a military family. My son current serves in the US AIR Force, and I consider myself deeply patriotic...
This poem was one of those that just oozed out...no rough draft
it just came- for me it is one of me best ones-

Thank you for your poisitve and encouraging remarks..

You know, my father served proudly in the US Army for many years. Being an Army brat, I usually took the travel and pangs of constantly switching schools for granted. But he passed away and while at his funeral, I understood finally what his service to this country. It was honor, it was for and I, it was so that we could remain forever free. They folded the flag and presented it to my mother. My brother's and I stared in amazement; imagine our father, the man who formed us into men, being given a place among heroes. I was proud, so very proud and this poem reinforces that pride. Thank you.

When I was married ( in the mid 80's) we were stationed in Bad Toelz Germany, at Flint Kaserne with 1st and 10th Communications. Everyday prompty at 5pm in the quad they would march out to the flag pole and take down the flag...Folding it meticulously with care. Most days I would take the kids out there and we would participate, standing at attention with our hands on our hearts and the trumpets would play - this huge pride would swell up inside and I would get this lump in my throat the size of a combat boot.
My grandfather was a Master Sgt and was buried with full honors.
I know the feelings you speak of. \Growing up in Ft Bragg/Pope AFB I was able to see the Paratroopers jump during training exercises and watch the hueys and chinooks fly over rumbling the earth.

Thank you for sharing that mig- I appreciate your input-Im glad you liked the poem.