Life was not always like this for me, you know.

There was a time – oh there was a time!

I marched with the best of them!


I flew those silver birds through hell

and brought them back every time.

Life was not always like this.


Sometimes I remember things.

Like the time I found those pups

only a couple weeks old

suckling their dead mother

at the bottom of a foxhole.


I cried as I drowned those pups.

I wanted to be back on that Indiana farm

where I cold raise those warm, wiggly buggers

and make coon dogs of them!

God, how I wanted that!


I remember shooting the enemy

and seeing around his neck

a gold locket.

Then having to get up and fire again

to keep that piece of real estate

on our side of the front.


I remember the men, good, bad, brave, weak,

who shared that life and made it special.

Ah, we had us some times!


What’s that, you say?

What am I doing here?

I don’t’ know.

Sometimes, I think I’m trying to forget.

But mostly, I guess, I’m trying to remember

that time when life itself was a battle.


I wait for those spaces when the whiskey fog lifts

and the reality of a civilized world closes in.

Those minutes when I seem once again

to be them aster of my fate.

When the lives of my men and the fate of a world

rested on the tip of a carbine.

Or when these red eyes saw the world

from the blue skies.

when life meant something.

No, life was not always like this.


About dswan2

Poet, author, columnist, lyricist, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, wife of 50 years. Born and raised in America's Heartland
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Terry says:

    Just Great Donna… You are truly blessed to write.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s