From The Mouth Of My Babe

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!

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