A Soldiers Flight
Below the trees the cold wind roars, the young soldier is ready for the fight, the screaming bird on its final flight of war.
by Doug Morrow
He always departs from right to left, protecting his boys like his only begotten sons, fire in the night, OH MY GOD, were the only ones.
Paradise alley is heaven sent, bright red tracers his only defense, his aching body acts as sculpting clay, his fearful mind racing to save the day.
All back home safe and sound, truly a miracle for these old hounds.Looking for a parade for these toy soldiers, it can never come, our fight is a secret one.
God, Country and our Mothers milk, we protect the flag woven from purest silk.
All said and done is a pat on the back, never a medal or even sheppards pie, know that your Country loves you boy, the children never cry.
When the paper drill winds its eerie blade, you must leave now from your youthful tirade.Thanks for making a man from a long lost boy, can I take my medals now and live a life without regret, a life of joy?
A Soldiers Flight can never land, only fond memories of a dark green Sandman.