Thurman P. Woodfork

RAINBOW’S END

The rainbow that I search for
has no pot of gold at the end;
the final treasure that I seek
is a reunion with old friends.

The ones who heard Death’s
sibilant voice whispering in their ears
signaling an end forever to
the war’s insistent fears.

The ones who crouched beside me
as the mortars thundered loud,
or rushed to the aid of another
and their own waiting shrouds.

The ones who reveled with me
through the vibrant Spanish nights
on the sensual Costa Brava
in the days before firefights.

The guitars singing softly then
spoke of love and not of war;
their voices whispering to me,
“¿Quisiera bailar, mí amor?”

“¡Sí, sí, a mí, me gusta!”
and we danced away the hours,
all unaware of the coming of
the deadly monsoon showers.

The years have grown long since
Sweet Barcelona and III Corps;
but the guitars and the mortars
both sing to me once more.

Is it odd my strongest dreams
are of friends from Spanish shores
and the buddies with whom I served
in that lousy, stinking war?

Well, the friends waiting now
traveled down dissimilar streets,
but the reunion drawing closer
needs them all to be complete.

Life is Joy; Life is Sorrow:
Follow the Rainbow into Tomorrow.

Author’s Note: For “Poppa” – David R. Alexander… a friend!