For Sixty odd years she stood by his side,

faithful and patient, his loving bride.

He went off to France, and then to Japan

how she worshipped the ground, under that man. 

Her heart was with him while he was away,

she riveted planes that helped save the day

she joined up with the WAC's and served as well

she waited for letters his stories to tell. 

He came home that day all in one piece

she flew to his arms, tears she released

he told her of places she'd never seen

how tall were the alps and how France was so green 

He told her of Fiji and the blooms on the trees

and the way that the wind blew in off the sea

he cried over the tale of children dead lay,

killed by a blast From a bomb dropped one day. 

He wept for his friends, killed on board ship,

Pearl Harbor had been their only trip,

they never saw battle, he said with a sigh,

and she held him close while he lay there and cried. 

And when she held him to her late in the night

she saw in his eyes, a very sad light.

"If we have a son," she heard him say,

"I hope to God he never sees war,

his life should never go that way." 

But serve their son did, in a far away land,

at 18 years old he was a man

he went off to DaNang, in sixty-five

he was there for a year

when they got the call that he wasn't alive. 

She has his flag up there on her shelf

a reminder of sacrifice, of duty and self

she now holds her grandkids close to her side

and hopes to God they never see the things that she's seen as a war bride. 

Angela M. Roussel

"for Nana" 1989