just waiting for the postman,
Hoping to get some news.
Saying youíre doing fine and well,
But knowing itís not the life you choose.
When you are gone the days are lonely,
But when night time comes, itís even worse.
I count the days of your return,
Oh, how we shall rejoice.
Each letter that I get from you,
Is like a celebration.
Because I share it with all our friends,
And all of our relations.
The kids are praying for the holidays,
That youíll be home by then,
But only God knows that,
If you will, or when?
War is such a terrible thing,
Brought on by hate and greed.
The power by which some hope to get,
Not fighting because of need.
Our freedom today is threatened,
But our men and women stand,
To keep our freedom for our children,
In this beautiful and bountiful land.
If you donít make it home for the holidays,
Weíll just celebrate a little later on,
When all the family is back together,
And you are safely home.
Faye Reyenga © 9 / 21 / 2006