Here (below) is a poem I wrote when I was a student Pilot (military) in training in the Air Corps, WW II. I sent it to my mother, who had it in a notebook which I acquired after her death.
There's a porch step that needs fixing, a cottage door that's loose,
There's a garden gate that's rusted simply from lack of use.
There's my dog who used to romp with me every evening by the lea,
Watching the road both day and night, just waiting there for me.
There's the lake where I used to swim, only about a mile away,
There's the fields where I hunted rabbits on a warm mid-summer day.
There's the hotter days we'd spend dreaming under the shady walnut tree,
And when I come back, I know they'll be waiting there for me.
There were picnics in the parks and Roller skating Rinks,
Rides in my little Roadster, and miniature golf links.
There were parties at the Beaches, we took in all there was to see,
I was happy then, I'll be happy again because they're waiting there for me.
In the Winter when it rained or when snow was on the ground
There was a fire in the fireplace and we all would gather round,
Swapping stories, eating popcorn and apples as red as could be,
And I know we'll enjoy them again because they're waiting there for me.
There's the home-cooked meals, Cookie Jar, and the Fridge raids at night,
There's the fishing and hunting trips, and many a scary plight.
When, before I put on a Uniform I was as happy as I was free,
They'll be there when I come home because they're waiting there for me.
There's the Sweetheart I left behind who has the dark brown hair and eyes,
And the very ground she walks on, I adore and Idolize.
No two could have been more in love, nor happier than we,
And I'm sure I'll come back to her because she's waiting there for me.
By F. W. (Lucky) Hope
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