I wrote this a few years ago. It is appropriate today.
Thirty-five Years
There’s a monument in Washington
Made black and polished stone
With rows of names upon it
Of young men I might have known.
Some I did know from high school
Or from the Army or were friends.
And, I can point to the column
Where my name might have been.
But, that was thirty-five years ago,
Years of pageant and parade.
And, I’m sure they would have appreciated
All the speeches that were made.
But, if you could ask any one them,
Of the flowers, flags and tears,
Which is the tribute he’d prefer,
He’d take those thirty-five years.
So, forgive me if I wince when
I hear calls to support our troops
As if they were a sporting team
Playing for points or goals or hoops.
Let’s support their health instead.
Let’s be slow to draw our guns.
And, never trust politicians
With the lives of our sons.