Feel like the soldier boy who went away,
left his mom and dad and the family dog,
in the drive way,

left his friends, left his school, hair cut real
short, when long hair was cool, left his girl,
you all, know how that went

got a letter but it was to Dear John...
even though lips held kisses and promises
after she finished grade twelve too.

he left the mountains, he left the river,
if he was lazy, now, he would have to giver!
get his heels together,
and learn that respect was earned,

but
always
respect the
rank and uniform,
the man
needs to earn
the respect of the
troops,

he knew no quit, and he came home
when he could and sometimes he
travelled far,

sometimes when getting home
was not possible he lay on his bed,
and left the room and in his head,
he made it home,
for the weekend.

the dog died, his dad left,
chaos turned a world upside down,
but he still made it home,

much water has flowed down the Columbia since that day,

my life is still busy, left the army
not enough years to build a pension,
but I will rattle of verses from the
sublime to the perverse,

I will poke with words, to let you
know I feel, and some pieces I write
the tears will fill my eyes and
the sounds won't be right,
and my heart will pound,

I will walk down these all too
familiar roads, the 'sunsets' and
'love' verses all look familiar,
maybe each time I go away I
will try to stay longer, and
maybe one day, I will retire here
among the poems done and
antiquated, among the ones
rolling raucously in my mind,
waiting for those birth pangs.

waiting for their turn to be read aloud,
waiting to make my mom real proud,
waiting to publish

waiting for someone to say...Hello.