 They may be sitting now
In a prison dark and dank.
It matters not their title.
It matters not their rank. 
Their troubled souls are praying,
Why can't we all go home?
What happened to our leaders,
That they left us here alone?
The torments and the terrors
Creep through our lives each day.
We dare not disobey the rules.
"Please help us God?" We pray.
Have we all but been forgotten?
Are we really here to stay?
Are the countries where were hidden,
So big, America can't say.....
"Release our soldiers, sailors,
Marines and pilots too.
Release them now or know...
What wrath America can do!!"
"America! Please bring us home!
We've done all that we can do.
We need to see our families!
We've seen our battles through.
In Flanders Field the Poppies grow
Amidst white crosses of the brave.
Please bring us home before we die
And Taps sounds o'er our grave.
By Carol Bouche' Ottlinger
'Song Of Joy'
copyrightŠ 2009HOME
TRIPLES with EMMA
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