BUCK SERGEANT'S CHOICE
The old man
was dying
as he handed me
a child
frightened as a kitten
in the midst of a war
so long ago
...... and I carried her
into the filth
and gunfire
like war paint
screaming
and clinging
to me
a small voice
crying
and crying
unto forever
crying
I dream sometimes
that she lived on
in that war torn land
I dream
that she cries at night
in tears
and fright
beyond that day
and beyond that night
... that she has become
a beautiful
Mother
and in some way
her tears have dried
... and that... She!
... remembers me.