Faye Sizemore


What tales
those sad eyes could tell
of the smell of blood
and diesel smoke…
amid the fires of Hell

Not a look of regret
Just a burning desire
to tell of it all…
in memory of those
answering Vietnam’s call

Only in the telling
can the pain mend
… in declaration of loyalty
for those Brothers
whose life did end

Wondering why
he cannot often speak
… his tales might fall
upon the ears of the weak…
not fitting for the meek

He needs a special audience
One that will understand
that there is a real difference
between preaching… and teaching
in the name of remembrance