This poem was sent to me by Peter Martin, and this is it's story....

 

"This is a poem that I found in my father's wallet after he passed away a few years ago.  I asked my mother about it and she said that he had carried that poem with him since the outbreak of World War II.  He carried it through World War II, the Korean War and 28 years of service in the Army.  Total time he carried it I esitmated to be 62 years.  I have no idea where he got the poem, or whether he wrote it himself.  I do know that it obviously meant a lot to him and it meant a lot to my mother.
I hope you will consider posting it to share with all of our troops whether they are home or overseas."

 

....Thank you, Peter.

 

 

Loving a Soldier

 

Loving a soldier isn't all play,

The life it enforces isn't so gay,

It's mostly the loving and not to hold,

It's being too young and feeling too old,

It's the life of skimmed milk without any cream,

It's being in love with a wonderful dream,

It's a lonely letter from a far off Camp,

And in the corner is a little green stamp,

It's hoping for a furlough that never can be,

And making plans for a future you see.

But then, if it gets there, it's laughter together,

Unconscious of people, the time, and the weather,

To having him whisper his "I love you", and your shy reply, "I love you too",

Till then comes the wonderful promise of love,

And knowing you're watched by the father above,

Yes, loving a soldier is goodbye at the train,

And wondering when you will see him again.

 

You're reluctantly, painfully letting him go,

When you're crying inside for wanting him so,

And you wait for his word that "everything's swell",

And you bide through a letterless miserable spell,

And you find that your feet are of sand, not sod,

And your source of strength comes from God.

 

Loving a soldier is undefined fears,

And crying at night till there aren't any tears,

Hating yourself, the world and the war,

Fighting yourself till you can't anymore,

And giving up to kneel and to pray,

And putting your heart in the words that you say.

 

But when the mail comes, you're giddy with joy,

And you prance like a child with a shiny toy,

And realizing how he is far away,

Your love for him grows greater each day,

And you are so proud of the job he is helping do,

And know he is doing it thinking of you,

 

So, you grit your teeth and manage a smile,

You've a big job and you've got to begin,

You're in war, the same one he's in,

So you work and smile each hour of the day,

And the victory that's near with plenty of pay,

You're lonesome, you're tired from doing your share,

But you're helping your soldier win over there.  So, loving a soldier is bitterness and tears,

It's loneliness, sadness, and ungrounded fears,

It's working and hoping for " freedom of living",

With a reward that's immense for what you are giving.

 

No, loving a soldier isn't any fun,

But it's cheap for the price, when the battle is won.

 

 

I recently received a slightly different version of this very same poem that I'm including here, as well as it's story:

 

 

 

 

 

Loving A Soldier

 

Loving a Soldier isn't always what they say,
and loving him is a high price to pay.
It's mostly loving with nothing to hold,
it's being young yet feeling so old.
It's having him whisper his love to you,
it's whispering back you love him too.
To seal this promise of love
Reluctantly, Painfully, letting him go
While you're dying inside from wanting him so
Watching him leave with eyes full of tears,
Standing alone with hopes, dreams and fears.
It's sending a letter with the stamp upside-down,
to a far away lover in a far away town.
It's going to church to kneel and pray,
and really meaning every word you say.
So though you know he's far away,
Just keep on loving him more each day.
Being in love will merit your dreams,
and thoughts of Heaven where love's light gleams.
Days go by and no mail for a spell,
you wait for some word to hear that he's well.
A letter arrives and your heart fills with joy,
you're like a small child with a shiny new toy.
With fingers trembling, heart beating fast,
you read it again from first word to last.
He's doing well and misses you so,
it's filled with the love you wanted to know.
Weeks are now months, months seem like years,
you're waiting for the day you'll have no more fears.
Time passed slowly, but gone very fast,
You're barely aware it's here till it's past
Yes loving a Soldier brings bitterness and tears,
Loneliness, sadness, and despondent years.
Loving a Soldier isn't much fun,
But it's well worth the price when his time is done.
Remember he is thinking of you every day,
He's sad and lonely for being away.
So love him, miss him and cherish your dreams,
and always be proud of Loving your Soldier.

 

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THE SANDS OF CHRISTMAS

by Michael Marks

 

 

I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
    And looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.

 

    The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix,
    My stocks were down another point, the Chargers lost by six.

 

    And so with only minutes till my son got home from school
    I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.

    The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
    And so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.

 

    I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
    No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.

 

    And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
    Eight Humvees ran a column right behind an M1A.

 

    A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens
    Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.

 

    They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
    Their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.

 

    Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
    To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.

    There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
    They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.

 

    They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
    They didn't need an ornament--they lacked a Christmas tree.

 

    They didn't have a present even though it was tradition,
    The only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition."

 

    I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
    He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.

 

I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near

    And kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.

 

    "There's nothing wrong, my little son, for safe we sleep tonight.

Our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,

 

    To worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,
    Instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall."

 

    He looked at me as children do and said, "it's always right,
    To thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write."

 

    And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
    To thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote:

 

    "God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
    Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone.

 

    The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,
    You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay."

 

© 2007 R.A. Hawkins

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