Sometimes I visit my brothers, in formation row on row
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The grass is green and neatly trimmed beneath soft winds that blow.
As time goes on I realize I’ve more in common with these
Than those about me walking upright, and healthy as you please.
I stood beside them, o’er there, they flanked me on each side.
I knew who friends were, sometimes wounded and even those who died.
Even the foe who faced us off, respect for him I had.
He made no pretense where he stood, for either good or bad.
We lucky lot came home alive, and entered a world so cold.
We left not long ago young men, and came home bent and old.
In our own good land we cannot tell… the difference- friend or foe.
We watch our six, back to the wall no matter where we go.
We grew old far before our time, and recluses are we all.
In our own world we are strangers now, who answered duty’s call.
But my brothers lie in peaceful rest together row on row.
I envy you brothers, often times, awaiting my time to go.