I play the harmonica, well I know one song. Everyone tells me to learn more, but I play the one song well. It moves me to write, to think, to dream. Today as the keys move, my thoughts speed on ahead . . . The song is sad and each time I play it I think of a only soldier sitting on the banks of a river somewhere, dreaming of home.
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you.
Away you rolling river!
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you.
Away, I’m bound away,
‘Cross the wide Missouri.
My Shenandoah, my river is calling me home. This Easter remember our soldiers. Remember what it means to go to war. There are no sides, only hardships . . .
Dan Hanosh
Warriors and Wars
http://www.poemhunter.com/dan-hanosh/
Tags: Poetry writing The Brave the few



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