by Marvin "Swashplate" Camp
by Swashplate

While cleaning out a closet,I found a box.
Just a dusty cardboard box,without any locks.
Its contents unknown,what could this be,
I sat on the bed,anxious to have a look see.

I dusted off the top,and opened this find,
Many old letters,yellow with age,time was not kind.
They were letters from me to my Mom,
When I was a young crewchief from Vietnam.

The letters were short,and harsh to the mind,
Words written by a frightened teen,not meant to be kind.
Between the lines, I could read the fear,
This stack of letters span for over a year.

The yellow pages soon fade from my teary eyes,
All the good cheer and I'm alright, was all made up lies.
I was scared and afraid I would die,
To my Mom, I was a man and soldier in here eye.

Under the letters, Oh! What a surprize!
Tranished crewman wings greeted my eyes.
I cleaned them up, shineing like new,
I held them tightly,then suddenly feeling blue.

I put them in the box, and put them away,
memories of Vietnam ,to be revisited another day.
Vietnam is with me, like a scar on the mind,
To sort out memories, some not very kind.

So, When you clean your closets and see a box,
Not looking valuable, without any locks.
What you may find will surely cost you tears,
When those letters brings back those ghosts and fears!