Rhyme Iii

Poem By Christopher Teale

Opening an old leter fom Vietnam, a picture I found,
Three young soldiers, frozen in time.
Two will remain forever young in the bossom of Crist.
The third in my mirror I see, Old soon to be.
Remembrance in dreams some 27 years old,
Vivid still yet in blood reds and emerald green.
A beautiful tropical Paradise
Turned into a living and a dying Hell
Orphaned children delivered unto the Nuns of Saigon
Received in open arms full of grace.
With the sky ablaze, a beautiful Asian sunset
Marks the days end.
Kneeled at the conquered waterhole
Three young soldiers.
One is washing, one is drinking
and one is praying.
For surely there is no greater thirst of God or of water
Than the thirst of an Infantry Soldier.

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