Dreaming In Iraq Poem by Philip Lore

When I look up at a shooting star,
I dream of my Harley,
My hot-rod car.

Waking wearily, at the break of day,
I hope you thought of me today.

Struggling, trudging, through the burning sand,
I'm proud to be an American Fighting Man.

Tyring to remember,
Your smile,
Your face.
Memories fade,
In this terrible place.

Broken strands of old barbed wire,
Weapon off safe, ready to fire.
I yearn each day for your burning love,
Wishing to feel a, tight, loving, hug.

My heart beats strong with burning desire,
Our love stills grows higher and higher.
I wish for this with all my might,
To hold you and kiss you, in my arms tonight.

Soon, my darling, I'll be on a plane,
With you my sweet Cathy,
No more war, no more pain.