A mother wipes a wistful tear
as she puts the photographs away,
Her little boy is grown up now,
no more skinned knees to mend from play.
He used to carry a cricket bat
and play for hours hitting the ball,
Now he carries a weapon instead
and waits quietly to be given "the call".
Her son is a soldier.
A little girl and little boy
wish their daddy was home to play.
But they busy themselves with lively games,
and the tears are kept at bay,
until it's time for saying "goodnight".
They send kisses to daddy through the moon,
their kisses fly on wings of love,
they pray for daddy to be home safe soon...
Their daddy is a soldier.
A wife is tidying from the day,
she pauses briefly to look at the door.
How she longs to hear her "one great love"
step through that door once more.
Her days are long, her nights are hard,
as that's when the fear creeps in.
Nobody sees her "snuggle" on the wrong side of bed,
anything to feel closer to him.
Her husband is a soldier.
I carry photographs within my heart,
no space for luxuries in my pack.
I feel gentle kisses from the moon
as I watch my "oppo's" back.
I often think of my "one great love"
and pray that my family is okay,
I know they're strong and that gives me strength
to do "the job" while I'm away.
I am a soldier.
Whilst places, weapons, tactics and all other aspects of war may change, the emotions of the soldier and his family remain unchanged. Trina's ode captures these feelings.
So we ask of you when you read this ode,
to spend a quiet moment in prayer.
Remember our families, remember our soldiers,
and send kisses through the moon up there.