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Poetry from within
   

R n R


Home at last, bags in hand

With a smile upon his face

A well earned break, some R and R

From that God forsaken place



Bags abandoned, to the fridge he goes

Looking for goodies to scoff

You smile as you watch him fill his face

A resemblance of a pig round a trough



With belly full, its shower time next

Bathroom no longer free

For what seems like hours in that room he dwells

How dirty can he be?



He appears again, sparkling clean

In nothing but boxer shorts

“Make us a brew mum, will you please?”

“Not forgetting the biscuits of course!”



So there he sits in his favourite chair

With his pint pot brew and biscuits

Contented sighs as he downs three at once

You know how much he’s missed it



Television on, remote in hand

Channel hopping time has begun

Flick, flick and flick some more

Searching for something fun



Disney Channel, Top Gear

Last of the Summer Wine

Laughter fills the house once more

At last you know he’s fine



Family arrives, to welcome him home

His stories now he tells

You sit and you listen and try not to cry

For you know he’s been through hell



Tea time next, his belly is rumbling

“What’s to eat?” he says

You look in the fridge and everything’s gone

So it’s off to the shops… happy days!



Shopping all done, you head for home

His favourite meal you cook

He devours his food then asks for more

Without a second look



Night time comes round, he settles down

In the comfort of his own home

You look at him and smile with pride

As he catches up with mates on the phone



Then he’s off to bed to get some kip

In his comfortable bed he lays

“I’m glad I’m home I’ve missed you all”

Then “Good Night God Bless” he says



Day breaks through a peaceful night

He’s still sleeping like a child

You want to wake him but change your mind

Just let him sleep for a while



Almost noon, there’s movement above

Breakfast he will need

Full English cooked with everything on

For your hungry soldier you feed



He eats his meal, each mouthful cherished

“That was great” he says

Then he’s off upstairs to find his dad

To plan what to do that day



Dad’s smiling again, his soldier is home

His right hand man is back

They’re off to the shed to disappear

Amongst the junk and tack



Lunch time comes, they both appear

Covered in muck and grime

They’re chatting and laughing and larking about

Just having a bloody good time



Washing next, you open his bag

Repelling away from the smell

You wonder how long it’s been since last washed

You ask him but he can’t tell



With clothes at arms length and a peg on your nose

It’s off to the laundrette you go

The attendant looks on with a frown on her face

But do you care? oh no!



The washing is done, or so you think

It smells better than it did before

You reach the house and there he is

With another pile, he’s found some more!



“Don’t worry mum, I’ll do it myself”

“Like heck you will” you say

“Just leave it there and it will be done

Sometime later today”



So for two whole weeks, your routine is broken

Nothing is quite the same

But you don’t care for your soldier’s home

At least ‘til he goes back again



That day comes round, you hurt inside

But do not let it show

Stay safe my love, come back real soon

As on that plane he goes



He’s back in hell, your worries return

In your prayers each night you say

“Dear Lord above; keep my soldier safe

Please bring him home soon” you pray



Before you know it, he’s home again

Golden brown tan on his face

His tour is over, you thank heaven above

He’s out of that terrible place!


Michaela Turner