A PLACE WITHIN
I follow the river
beneath the slanting compass
of the Sun
Light
dancing within a cold breeze
blowing upon my face
and leaning upon old knees
I pass the junkyard by the steel bridge
Old and lonely things
gathered into piles of memory
The lonely heart of an old-time piano
... the sadness of a guitar without strings
... and always
I remember brave young men
Their faces
following me home
gathering within
again
I hear them
... dead soldiers whispering
in the darkness as I walk
toward the warmth of home
The prayer of sleep