Although under the weather for almost three weeks, I tried my hand at writing lyrics. Surprisingly, the words flowed. I believe “Mail Call” is the essence of my novel, Dearest Mother and Dad.

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“Mail Call”

*

Giddy anticipation from family so far away,

Mama’s note reverting man to boy of yesterday,

Perfumed letters like the sweet taste of my gals’ necks,

Help us forget we’re heading for a god awful wreck.

*

Our letters home have tough drawbacks.

But ya gotta write something for a tall stack.

To tell the truth or make up lies, which one do we voice?

More stress upon us at the complicated choice.

*

Protecting my mother unknowing of what I see,

Gives me courage to be what I need for adversity.

Hiding my anxiety is what helps my ability.

Why should more worry besides me?

*

Our letters home have tough drawbacks.

But ya gotta write something for a tall stack.

To tell the truth or make up lies, which one do we voice?

More stress upon us at the complicated choice.

*

The mundane lies believed more humane.

But we’re not at a resort with caviar and champagne.

My sister demands to know my bitterness

Therapy is confessing my sins for forgiveness.

*

Some say they’re afraid of how we’ll return.

Violent or depressed and ending in an urn.

Others will pretend the war never happened,

Pick up where we left off as though abandoned.

We’re far from home it doesn’t matter now.

We just want to survive this hell somehow.

*

Our letters home have tough drawbacks.

But ya gotta write something for a tall stack.

To tell the truth or make up lies, which one do we voice?

More stress upon us at the complicated choice.