IN THE SPRING…
The small soldier hides
behind a boulder of rock
carrying small arms
careful not to talk;
lest his position be given away,
he hides, still as stone
but he doesn’t pray.
A small nurse is waiting
in a green plastic tent
in case the wee soldier’s wounded
his green body rent
with injuries inflicted
by other small men
He’s been fighting a long time
since summer, it’s been.
When it starts snowing
his General goes home
leaving him and the others
behind Boulders of stone
and the small soldier waits
and the nurse waits, as well
[All things are relative;
They’ve been through small Hell.]
The snowstorms creep over
their boulders and moss
they don’t feel the cold
and they don’t feel the loss
But they stay in position
and wait out the storm
and suddenly, one day
it starts to get warm.
The General is back!
He’s looking about
They wish they could speak
they'd like to call out
But they remain silent
and watchful, as always -
still, in position,
these many long days
……
for they are Toy Soldiers, and
and they were led by my son…
and he has long served
with his own pack and gun;
He has hidden near boulders,
that smoldered in heat,
or were smothered in snow……
just like his toy soldiers
from long, long ago.
©Copyright January 2004 by Christina
Updated on Mother's Day - 5-8-05
(right click image, then "Save as")
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