Nancy L. Meek

A LITTLE BIT TOO LATE

I was not in the war, but I wish I was,
in a-bird-in-the-bush sort of way,
too nervous to ask the question,
“Did you kill anybody that day?”

For that day seems too fresh for too many
to say if they killed way back then,
and my spittle too fresh on their cheeks
as I, their enemy, now try to get in.

“Just leave them alone”, I tell myself
as they fondle their bottles of wine,
draw their blankets over their souls
and dream away our world grown blind.

This poem prompted the response, “Never Too Late” ~ ©Copyright August 19, 2007 by Faye Sizemore