I'll Hold You, My Child, Up Here In My Heart

By and © 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

For Landon and all of the war babies who never knew their Dads


I knew about you before you were born and
Loved you from moment one. I imagined your smile
Your little bitty toes, your baby blue eyes and your cute button nose.

And I held you in my heart, not yet in my arms, and
Knew from that moment you held my heart. Even though I
Had not met you as yet, you had my completely, feelings I’ll never forget.

Then my country called me away and you went with me
In so many ways as I carried you in my heart. I missed you
So much that when all alone I cried a little, wanting to get home.

You cheered me up when I was down, gave me courage
as I stood my ground. You were born just three weeks
ago, seven pounds, three ounces; my how you’ve grown.

Now I watch over you from up above, an enemy’s bullet
Took me from your love. But you’re still with me
As I with you and I’ll watch over your mother and you.

I’ll watch you grow up, get married, have kids,
all from above. I’ll hold you forever, no matter how far,
I’ll hold you, my child, up here in my heart.


© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

A Christmas Tribute to Our Troops

Christmas Tree Boots

© 2011 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved


Filled with dirt,
Frozen through,
It started there,
In WW two.
Tradition: it starts somewhere.

A friend had died,
Though not alone,
And given up
His boots to Jones.
Christmas: it started there.

Rhoades took the boots
And dug the dirt,
And carried it
Wrapped in his shirt.
Stacking: starting with Jones’.

And from there
It all began,
Tradition passed
From Man to Man.
Trees: from shoes one owns.

In the circle,
Toes pointing out,
Recall the names
That it’s about.
Filling: support to give.

Ten to eight,
Eight to six,
Six to four,
Soon it’s fixed.
Single: from one who lives.

A soldier’s boot
Now stands tall
For Christmas-time
Has come to all.
Tree: dirt-filled soldiers’ boots.

In frozen snow,
Or sandy desert,
It helps to ease
A soldier’s hurt
Normalcy: our own roots.

When next you see
A soldier brave
Remember thank them,
Salute their grave.
Freedom: won day by day.

Even on Christmas
They gave their all,
Served our country,
Answered the call.
Sacrifice: the price they pay.

Imagine now
The soldiers’ boots,
Stacked up tall,
First owners mute.
Blood: red and green contrast.