Home, sweet home. Part one.


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The White cliffs of Dover
Places gain value when you are surrounded by  war. The World War one and the World War two soldiers dreams of coming home. The white cliffs of Dover, when they saw them. They knew home was near. Home, sweet home. I saw the white cliffs of Dover in 1977. I could feel the joy of men here and gone. So many wonderful poems for the white cliffs of Dover. Words, written to honor her and England.
The white cliffs of Dover, the first marker of home, sweet home was near. A thousand soldiers cheered when they saw the white cliffs. They had fought in land drowning in blood and they left many brothers  on foreign soil. War left no sweetness for them.
They needed to touch the England shores, kiss the soil and praise the land. The white cliffs of Dover welcomed them home with open arms and in a quiet whisper. Broken or not. She embraced them and she thanks them for serving and protecting freedom.
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                The Tennessee  river
We spend one year in the Iraq heat and dust. Damn desert, no trees, no water and hot as hell. We are surrounded by sand and garbage.
My friend Bill told me often.  Soon I will leave this place and I will return to Tennessee. I will be home in late Spring. I will take a 30 day leave and all I will do is fish in the Tennessee river. Drink some cold beer and I won’t never complain
about the Tennessee weather. Rain or shine.  I will be thankful to be home.
Coyote