My shining shoes echoed hollow sounds
as I walked hpme towards that sacred ground
where childhoods were spent in laughter and sun.
That time that was long before I learned to shoot a gun.
For me no bands or crowds came to greet
as I left the bus and found the street.
I did notice that faces turned looked away
from this uniform all pressed with medals displayed.
A small town where no one said, "Hello!"?
A small town where there was no one I didn't know.
Now, in retrospect,
this greeting seems like cheers
Compared to comrades returning to their homes
the next ten years.