David R. “Poppa” Alexander


An old lady sits by the fire
Long ago she lost her ire;
She has hated France, The United States, Australia and all the rest
Her husband had gone to do his best.

He was forced into the service of North Vietnam,
Her youngest daughter killed by allied napalm.
Nothing from him has she heard;
Not a letter, not even a word.

Now she relegated to sit and wait
Knowing in her heart of his fate.
They had three children at one time
A hard hill they all had to climb.

Not knowing he was killed
Within a year his life’s blood had been spilled
Waiting in ambush of an American patrol
When an American helicopter had taken its toll.

A while back four American war veterans returned
Not a thing from them had she learned.
All dressed in the finest clothing she had seen
No regret, no remorse; to her they were just plain mean.

She had heard of a monument, a wall if you will
To honor American’s that her husband and others had managed to kill.
She had been told that North Vietnam had won the war
So where was her husband of whom she heard no more?

Now she and her only daughter sit and wait
Her only son a soldier just like his dad he was pulling his weight.
Hatred like love can rule a soul
Her life and family that war had stole.

No monuments, no help, no support does she receive
For all left is to sit and grieve.
She has grown old sitting and thinking of times gone by
For now she only wonders, how and why?

Submitted for the November 2002 IWVPA Club Theme Project, “My Opposite’s Eyes