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Memorial Day
God and the soldier we adore
In time of trouble, not before.
The trouble past, and all things righted,
God is forgotten, the soldier slighted.
~~ author unknown ~~
This poem was written by a soldier in Napoleon's army.
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Daddy's Day
copyright 2000 - please contact Cheryl for
permission to use her work. This was first published in Chicken Soup for the Parent's Soul, and, Stories for a Teen's Heart 2
Her hair up in a ponytail. Her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school and she couldn't wait to go.
But her mommy tried to tell her that she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand if she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid she knew just what to say,
what to tell her classmates on this Daddy's Day.
But still her mother worried, for her to face this day alone
and that was why once again, she tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school, eager to tell them all
about a dad she never sees. A dad who'll never call.
There were daddies along the wall in back for everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently. Anxious in their seat.
One by one the teacher called a student from the class
to introduce their daddy as seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name every child turned to stare,
each of them were searching for a man who wasn't there.
Where's her daddy at, she heard a boy call out.
She probably doesn't have one, another dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back, she heard a daddy say,
looks like another deadbeat dad, too busy to waste his day.
The words did not offend her, as she smiled at her friends
and looked back at her teacher, who told her to begin.
And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak
and out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique.
My Daddy couldn't be here, because he lives so far away,
but I know he wishes he could be with me on this day.
And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know
all about my daddy, and how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories, he taught me to ride my bike,
he surprised me with pink roses, and taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes and ice cream in a cone,
and though you cannot see him, I'm not standing all alone.
Cause my daddy's always with me, even though we are apart.
I know because he told me, he'll be forever in my heart.
With that her little hand reached up, and lay across her chest
feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears proudly watching her daughter, who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love of a man not in her life,
doing what was best for her, doing what was right.
And when she dropped her hand back down, staring into the crowd
she finished with a voice so soft, but its message clear and loud.
I love my daddy very much, he is my shining star
and if he could he'd be here, but Heaven's just too far.
But sometimes when I close my eyes, It's like he never went away.
And then she closed her eyes, and saw him there that day.
And to her mother's amazement, witnessed with surprise,
a room full of daddies and children, all starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside, perhaps for merely a second, they saw him at her side.
I know you're with me Daddy, to the silence she called out
and what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been closed
but there placed on her desktop, was a beautiful fragrant pink rose.
A child was blessed for moment, by the love of her shining bright star
and given the gift of believing, that Heaven is never too far.
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands, we throw
The torch-Be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though
poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
~~ Captain John D. McCrae ~~
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"It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
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It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves
beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
who allows the protester to burn the flag."
~~ Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC ~~
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Eulogy for a Veteran
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