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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, it's always the young they send to war.