He Hopes To Make It Home

 

There he stands
On a foreign land
He's just a kid
Forced, to take a stand

 

But, in his mind
He drifts back home
Swearing to himself
He'll never more roam

 

With gun in hand
He'll do his best
But prays to God
He won't have that test

 

He kisses the picture
Of his lovely new bride
He dreams of their love
And smiles with pride

 

He's just a kid, forced
To hold gun in hand
Ready to fight on
For the love of his land

 

If he makes it back
Some will look at him in shun
Like it was some kind of crime
For him to use his gun

 

When he drifts off to himself
They'll never understand
How he can be so distant
And, never the same young man

 

He hopes to make it home
To the ones he loves
As he prays every morning
And every night to God above

 

He prays on to God
To keep him free from harm
As he rubs his silver cross
Like it's his luck charm

 

Though danger can be any where
He marches right on his way
With a silent prayer on his lips
That he makes it home to stay

 

He thinks of his lovely wife,
How he'd love to have some kids
No matter if it be boy or girl
Either way it would be Gods bid

 

He thinks of his mom and dad
And wanders how they are
As he looks up to Heaven
Praying to God and stars

 

Yes, he hopes to make it home
To the ones he loves
As he prays every morning
And every night to God above

 

written 7/4/2013 by Norman Hale Jr.