Home > Creative Writing > Poetry
Created on: May 27, 2008
My husband is one month away from completing his one-year tour of duty in Iraq. Below, is part of a letter I wrote him when he left.
When I stare up at the stars,
You're looking at the sun...
Our bodies are in different places
But our minds are in one
As you tire from the work of the day
Exhausted from the heat
You think of home and wish it was in your bed that you could sleep
On the contrary, I'm staring at the wall
Wishing I wasn't home at all
The hours pass and I cannot sleep
This isn't home when you are not with me
When I hear your voice you sound so close
I forget for a moment that you aren't here
But when the phone hangs up I can't stop the tears
So I thought of what I could possibly do,
To send a piece of home to you
I took this box and in it I placed
Symbols of our beautiful life, and also challenges we've faced
The boat and shell are to remind you of the last time we were apart
How time didn't erase the love we had from the start
We made it through then, and surely we will now
Its just a matter of remembering how
The pictures of us dancing are to remind you that you'll always have me
The rose petal is from the bouquet I held when I vowed to love you endlessly
The gold pin is a symbol of your great courage and duty
To remind you that what you are doing is worthy
The lock of Giz's hair and smiley candle from the birthday cake
Are to remind you of our happy memories, and more great ones that we'll make
The piece of sheet is from the bed we share
And I want it to remind you that you'll soon be here
I included something else that you won't be able to see,
A piece of my heart, to you, for eternity
Learn more about this author, Amy Lynne.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
Poetry: Missing a loved one
"Eileen Maura"
Why did I have to wake up,
And have you fade away?
It seems that only in dreams,
I can see you, feel your
.My Sleeping Child.
{An ode to the children who sleep in death]
[Victorian Book of the Dead]
Sit with me
my little child
I wish you were here
For this music's so sweet
I hope you can hear
Our notes played so neat
It's wonderous to feel
Two beats
MARGARET
Margaret was not, I say NOT a "yes" person.
Needless to say, she "pushed my buttons" regularly.
But, oh, how she made
Oh Silent Angel
I felt your every movement
As you kicked me in the ribs
I imagined the life I'd give you
All the pretty
View All Articles on: Poetry: Missing a loved one