My boy friend fought in Vietnam.
In Sixty-six this new Marine
left me in tears on my front porch.
I sobbed, "Oh, Tom, you're cruel, so mean!"

Two farmers' kids from Iowa
and sweethearts since a grade school kiss.
"Let's flee to Canada," I'd begged.
"My duty, Sue. Can't run from this."

On our old black and white TV,
I watched that War destroy my world.
I saw the angry mobs in streets,
their signs, the rocks and insults hurled.

"We mustn't let those Commies win!"
the Hawks would cry. That's all I heard.
Four years, two tours, but Tom did write.
Then not a letter, not a word.

Though no official message came,
he was declared an MIA.
When Saigon fell, the War did end.
"Please come home, Tom," I'd daily pray.

Then one Spring day a miracle.
A prisoner exchange took place.
I saw him on my old TV.
"Oh, Tom, that is your lovely face!"

The boy who won my heart came home
and news about this hero spread.
Parades and picnics welcomed him.
A few weeks later we were wed.