This is a poem about a young girl who's daydreaming about her husband who is away at war…

An original by

Tizzie Barczynski

What thoughts I have of you, my love

For as I walk the abandoned streets of Elm's Circle,

I stop and sit under the maple tree, our tree,

You know the one that we carved our heart and soul into?

I look at the moon as I sit here, and I think of you and

How you are so far away, away at war….

In my thoughts of you and longing of you,

I go into a daydream into our first meeting;

I was at Oberwies's Ice Cream Shoppe also on my first date,

But when my eyes met yours for the very first time,

I knew you were the One …

I still remember those beautiful hazel eyes of yours

I remember out Life before the war

Oh my dearest Matthew, how I miss you so…please forgive me if my thoughts seem selfish and obscene

How Preposterous this war is! How Unfair! Men being ripped away from their women and their famlies, while young boys (teens) being whipped away from their families! No, they are drafted off to war, to the awful, wretched war!

What loneliness you must all have… unknowing the unknown!

And my Matthew, what were you thinking going off to war?

As I sit here under the Mid-night moon, daydreaming on what is past but yet still present, I see you, my love, homeless, lonely,

And quietly creeping along the valley's of Vietnam, eyeing everyone and everything as if it were the enemy, while still looking out for each other.

I hear you whisper in my ear-"DO YOU MISS ME, MY MAYBELLINE?

DO YA STILL LOVE ME, REMEMBER ME? ARE YOU STILL MY ANGEL?

I dream of us walking along the beach, hand in hand,

Side by side, then settling down on the dunes to watch the sun set into the Pacific Ocean

Where are you going my love? Come back, don't go…

My dreams have come to an end. I ask "where is your heart pointing?

Will we ever walk the streets of our past, Elms Circle?

Or sit under the tree, our tree, the one with our names carved into it?

Will we ever stroll on the beach's soft sand?

Or lay and cuddle watching the sun set into the ocean?

Or hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore?

Ah, my dearest Matthew, after this war, will America be the same?

Or the world? Will our life together ever be the same? Will you, my one true love, ever be the same?

The last paragraph on this page is where Madrilène is asking Matthew in a letter if his and her relationship be the same after the war? Also if he will ever be the same in the case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)cause a lot of men came back with it..