Vietnam
The winning touchdown scored that fall – lingered,
As fresh a memory of that night,
As when the sound of the crowd filled his ears,
And her kisses were warm and deep.
Only to have all that was planned and lay ahead,
Turned upside down and changed forever,
By a draw with no heart or conscience,
And the power to hurl him a world away.
To an ancient land turned killing-field,
A Grunt – slogging through jungles and paddies,
Always scared, yet true to his duty and buddies,
Amid a carnage that numbs his every fiber,
And with every letter, package or paper from home,
Compounding his hurt and feelings of loss,
His thoughts turn to why he is here,
But he is here; so, he will do what is asked of him.
And to return to the states is his greatest wish,
But he sees the lists of MIAs and KIAs,
And does what he must do,
To ease his pain and struggle on through.
He might make it home and pick up the pieces,
Of a life so drastically altered,
Or his final glory just might be, those “Friday Night Lights”,
Pale pink lipstick and warm fall kisses.
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