You strangers, you quiet men of
Our fathers, grandfathers, uncles, friends
I swore that you defined yourselves so poignantly
By that tumultuous slice of time so long ago;
We heard the snippets, short yarns among the men,
Amid the sighs and wistful looks and quaffing of the beer.
Gray haired you are today and honored
to be so
For knowing such good fortune did not come
For many of your comrades.
Time is your enemy now and though retired
And with your laboring years behind,
What have you left to tell us of that night?
When you are gone, what legends shall I pass
To your descendants?
Please one more time quaff beer
And share with me your memory.
I'll write it down, I'll tape record,
I'll make up for the yawns when I was young.
Dear Vet my Dad before you go,
Please tale again the horrors of that war...
Your children, grandchildren have a need to know.
Greg M. Stott