"My True Love"
A field of honey-colored wheat,
- my true love's clothes; her bread we eat.
Purple mountain Heather flowers,
grown in meadows - not in towers,
give her natural beauty, fair,
as do her golden fields - like hair.
Like a great eagle, she can soar,
- through fluffy clouds, or skies of war.
Her streams flowed, often, through my head,
In crimson fields, whilest tears, I shed.
I longed to hold her outstretched hand.
Someday, I'd return to her land!
The time grew dim - in war's dark night.
I longed to see Liberty's light.
My love said she'd remember me.
I fought, with might, to keep her free.
I thought of her, in times of need,
and for her freedom, I didst bleed.
And then, one day, I came back home.
My love met me with waves and foam.
Her "Stars and Stripes" made my heart melt.
She understood just how I felt.
My love gave me a purple-heart.
I told her that we'd never part.
"America" is my true love.
God blessed her richly, from above!
From this great land, I'll never roam!
America, is my heart's home,
until, at last, when I shall die,
- my home shall, then, be in the sky!
I'll fight for her, 'till death doth part!
I'll offer her, this purple-heart.
© 1999 by Tamara Lohman