by
Jane Barcroft
8/15/04
We were soldiers in an army,
Though we didn’t volunteer,
We were born into this service,
And we came from far and near,
A band of special forces,
A few hundred in the land,
And all of us were generals,
With no one in command,
We rode on silver horses,
The wind blowing in our faces,
Or we traveled on green chariots,
As we toured exotic places,
We explored in caves and fortresses,
And danced the night away,
In a building we called Teen Town,
A perfect place to stay,
Sometimes to improve morale,
We would take a boat,
And cruise to Hawkins Island,
And float and float and float,
We wanted to be local,
We needed to fit in,
And magically in three short years,
Somehow I know we did,
We could speak the language,
We knew the diddly-bops,
We understood “don de rud, mon”,
And we didn’t want to stop,
Tanning on pink beaches,
Diving from the rocks,
The friendships that were forged there,
Have never been forgot,
But as with all assignments,
New orders had to come,
And with hearts that were heavy,
We had to march along,
To a different place of service,
Another chapter in our book,
The lights went out at Kindley…
Then we came back for another look,
It was like stepping through Alice’s mirror,
And arriving in wonderland,
The years fell away in an instant,
As we stood there hand in hand,
We hadn’t forgotten the cadence,
And were able to perform the rites,
We road around on the buses,
And flew on those silver bikes,
We may have a little more baggage,
Some changes in our lives,
But nothing has dimmed the memory,
Of our island paradise.