I hold this scrap of paper so tightly in my hand;
my soldier has gone off to war to defend our precious land.
A flood of mixed emotion fills my doubting mind;
this necessary job of honor, a peaceful world to find,
has left me feeling empty as I lie here wanting much.
I grasp this scrap of paper, so tangible to touch.
It tells me that he loves me, and that he'll soon be here,
but how I long to touch his face and hear his laughter near.
I'll hold this scrap of paper, which I need to see me though.
I'll grasp it ever tightly until I'm holding you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem