(Continued from below...)
And so I sat in Mrs. Henry's class, daydreaming. I had written most of the poem before Mrs. Henry realized I wasn't paying attention. She walked up and grabbed the piece of paper off my desk. I quietly said good-bye to my poem because I was sure she would crumple it up and toss it in the trash. Instead, she read it and was very quiet. She then placed the paper back down, smiled and said, "very nice but
finish it later." I did, in the next class.... Although only words from a naive 11 year old girl, this poetry is my only published piece of work. On a whim, one day I sent this poem to the Boston Globe. I was only 12 and was thrilled when they wrote back saying they would publish it in their Sunday paper. True to their word my poem was published in the Sunday paper. In the kids section of the funny paper! I was disappointed; not because of my poem's placement, but because someone had taken the liberty to edit my poem so much, that I hardly recognized it anymore. Like Mrs. Henry almost did to my poem a year earlier, I tossed the published version in the trash.
picture by Gary Jacobson
"Another Soldier Gone"
People, dear sweet people,
Gather to the steeple.
A war is on,
Some soldiers gone,
Some bullets fly,
You hear a curdling cry.
Another soldier is gone.
You hear a bang,
A churchbell rang,
Another soldier is gone.
You hear a boom,
In the hospital there is no room;
So another soldier is gone.
In come the tanks,
Men rushing out of their ranks.
Soon more young men
Come marching in,
All too soon to die.
Back at home a young wife weeps
From sorrow and pain.
The little one's tears form
A puddle of rain.
Then you hear a bang,
Another churchbell rang.
The war is over,
But all the soldiers are gone....
Written in 1973 by Michelle/s0ngbird1962
*AOL picked me to be in their top 5 this week... I feel so emotionally moooooooooo-ved. "They like me, they REALLY like me" 
