David R. “Poppa” Alexander


Danny was a boy-man of eighteen years
I remember him now with not just a few tears
His days on earth were few it is true
But his memory makes you glad that he, you knew.

Wisdom of youth is oft misread
He represented the best America had breed
His last thoughts were of his family waiting at home
For no more would he be able on the farm to roam.

He lay dead within the land of war
We had nothing more to show than that of before
He had a life to live and dreams to be fulfilled
Now he lay dead; his life’s blood had been spilled.

As the body lay on the bloody ground
With none of his family to be found
All that was left of this soldier that was of any use
Were a bloody uniform and a tattered pair of combat boots.

Submitted for the October 2002 IWVPA Club Theme Project, “Combat Boots