A far off place called Vietnam,
by Ima Ryma
I'd never heard of it before.
The greetings came from Uncle Sam,
And I was shipped there to wage war.
It was hell in that time and place.
Two days before I was to leave,
I disappeared without a trace,
Missing in action on Christmas Eve.
Locals found me. I'd been shot dead.
I was buried where I'd been found.
Decades eroded my grave bed.
My remains were pulled from the ground.
I'm somes' memories from the past,
And I'm coming home at last.