Dear Mr. President,
these are not toy soldiers.
They aren't plastic and able
to be thrown around.
Their guns and their bullets
are all so very real.
You can't leave them outside
scattered in the dust,
left to be rained on
like bullets.
You can't keep them in containers
without seeing the sun.
They will die there,
Mr. President.
They're not just indestructable
plastic enamel and painted little toys.
They are people with families.
With wives and with children.
And we just want them to come home,
please.
Oh please, Mr. President, these are not toy soldiers.
We cannot just play with them
until we get bored.
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