The Homefront

As mother watched a ball rolled on friendly sand, red and white and blue and yellow, through a thoughtful tearful haze a forest of blurred legs in parched pursuit - shovels and pails dug forts, they buried her feet in its walls laughing... While a mortar round struck in Pacific sand olive drab entrenching tools dug a hole to hide - they buried their friends in its walls; crying... Back home, stars of Gold wept on windows where tracks of tears traced so much more than raindrops. Mothers left hugging memories -wishing a kiss and band aid could heal the wound of a broken heart