“Home, sweet home. Part two.


Home, sweet home. Part two.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

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Just words.

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                                Home, sweet home
(For Port Austin)
Sun and heat, heat and sun. The Iraq  days slow and not easy.
No booze, no woman, bad food and we have read every book available.
I left home in great haste, thinking my life was sour and worthless. I needed adventure and war. Poor visions of salvation given to me by my father’s tales of war.
Friendships are made, card games are played and the soldiers doing their duty and assigned tasks. The long hot days make men learn. Home, is the sweetest word.
I told my friend Bill: When I return home in the late Spring, I will go to Port Austin, bring a lawn chair, a cooler of beer and a radio. I will put my feet into the cold Lake Huron. I will dance with her till the stars appear.
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I will never complain about the Michigan cold Winters no-more. I will stay ten days to gather my mind and my thoughts.
I’m tire of the heat, I’m tire of the 15,000 soldiers with me. I need a restful place, where all I can hear is the birds singing and the Lake Huron waves moving. I need you, Port Austin.
Home, sweetest words to a wondering soldiers, learning. The green grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence. Maybe you had what you needed near.
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                    Johnnie/Coyote