I’m from the twig the battle-axe snapped from the bush.
I’m the homemade fudge, but more like taffy—
from the battles of wills it took to create it.
I’m the spaghetti that simmered
on the wood-burning stove all day long.
I’m from “Get that smile off your face—
or I’ll wipe it off for you.”
I escaped to “Hup, 2, 3, 4” that was drilled into us
as I made my way!
I became the Momma, Mom, Mommy dearest, Ma!
My children declared I’m that “Penny Lover”
Lionel Richie sings about.
I’m from another time and place, but I’m here now.
A Soldier Lies Here
By Jason Kirk Bartley
VA Medical Center—Chillicothe, OH
The shots rang out like lightning,
her voice so cold and grim,
the early fog so hazy,
the setting sun so dim.
My heart was racing
as I crunched over leaves and twigs,
and silence was broken by whistling wind.
Shadows played tricks among the trees,
slowly dancing to and fro.
The enemy lurked within the trees.
Where? I do not know.
In the darkness of the night,
shots rang out and gave me fright.
Taps began to play.
I stopped to say a prayer. 
Here lies a soldier who met His God
where only family and friends are gathered there.