Colin F. Jones

WHEN COMRADES MEET

We never left did we? We never parted,
Just time in between what we had started.
That will never finish; never while we live,
The comradeship we gave – that we still give.
No left out feelings; no tension in the air,
Just moments unfulfilled; emotion everywhere.
The same clouds gathering over the same stout trees,
Swaying gently in the same sweet breeze,
Broken branches entwining in the sun,
Grey and brittle, now that youth has gone…
And yet those roots, those everlasting roots,
Still shod in self perpetuating boots,
Hold together all those sacred grains,
That form the quilt of all our Earthly names

Author’s Note: I visited and met many of those I served with and their wives, after all this time… thirty-five years. The experience was indescribable… but I discovered the monuments obscured by the hype… and love was not found wanting.