She waits for him to call her
But the phone just doesn't ring
A knock on the door, shatters her soul
From the heartache that it brings

There stands two men in uniform
They ask her to be seated
Her heart weighs heavy with sorrow
Her hopes dreams depleated

They tell the woman, "He's not dead,
He's only missing in action"
But for a soilder in Afghanistan
This brought her no satisfaction

This was his second tour of duty
And was schelduled to get a leave
This news that her husband was missing
Was impossible to believe

She's heard about the horrible things
They do to a captured G.I.
She falls to the floor in a puddle of tears
As the woman begins to cry

Three weeks later, and still no news
She's numb, for there's no more tears
She hears a knock, for the second time
Could this be her deepest fears?

Once again two men stand in uniform
As her heart begins to bleed
Then suddenly, a third man appears
For her husband had finally been freed

This poem was written in honor
Of the soilders who keep us free
And we should never take for granted
This thing called Liberty