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It’s five to twelve almost Christmas Day.
Merry Christmas kids,
Daddy’s far away.
Sergeant’s calling, almost time to leave,
Sorry I can’t be with you on Christmas Eve.
There’s this ache in my heart as I think of the war.
The war in my heart and in my mind,
And the physical war I must fight,
But what I can’t quite figure out is:
Which is right?
It’s already been three months,
With many more to come.
With all this time without me,
Her love is running numb.
My wife is the most beautiful lady ever to be seen.
With lushes long hazel locks,
And enormous eyes of green.
Her long slender legs,
Her gorgeous curves.
To get a girl like her, took so many begs.
As I lay awake at night thinking of her,
Her and what we could be,
Her and her intimacy.
But now my wife is all alone,
With only the hope of our children as a sense of home.
I would rather be with them there,
I’m fighting for my country here.
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Ruminations on possibilities and honest realities of beginnings
A fantasy visit to a sleeping lover a long way away.
about a boy who is sleep walking in his dreams