He came home in late October, a tall young boy upright and sober
As a child he would always say, “I’m gonna fight in a war one day.”
Time sped by and at 17 that day came, the Army took him – they laid their claim.
He was 18 years and 1 week old, sent to Iraq – in Baghdad he roamed.
Rustamiyah was the place he called home, my little boy was there all alone.
Don’t worry mom, I’ll be alright – The Big Red One never loses a fight.
Upon his return he quickly explained, “I’m going back – for their freedom to gain.”
A year or so later, a wife and child he did leave, for the second time I stood back to grieve.
Back to a land dry as the dust, he went to Mosul without a fuss.
Since then to Germany for three long years, another little girl has now appeared.
It’s been eight years from start to end, I sit back and pray his mind will mend.
The helmet he wore in both of his tours, medals and citations are packed and secure.
I asked him what will he do with his life, how will you support your children and wife?
I’m going to college, I’ve served my country – I plan on making a difference in this world so in need.
I am proud of the babe I once held in my hands – He turned out to be one Hell of a Man!