Greetings And Salutations

Poem By Robert Edgar Burns

My dearest darling Trinki,
Your daddy called you that.
I know you’re waiting for some word,
Just where the heck I’m at.

We each got nine postcards,
Before we were deployed.
Only the General knows where we’re going,
And that leaves us all annoyed.

The C130 transport plane
With our tanks and squad on board,
Is so noisy that I cannot hear,
A solitary word.

Each pocket of air we hit with angst,
For when we come crashing down,
We fear our spines will splinter,
And hear exploding unstable rounds.

We must don field gear and jackets.
Our helmets are buckled tight.
The goggles are all sun-tinted,
To block out excessive light.

I step out into open space
And as I’m spinning all around,
I see your face smiling in the clouds,
And I know I’ll get safely down.

I hope these postcards reach you.
I filled out every line.
I numbered them one through nine,
To make a letter for the girl of mine.

Greetings and salutations,
Are all I can do this day.
But I’ll write a whole long letter soon,
Love and Blessings, to you I say!

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