The Soldier and Marine
Both a year from their proms
Sat in the depot, brothers in arms
They talked of Fallujah, Bastogne and Yalu
They spoke of Ramadi and Route Irish too.
They joked and they bragged
And remembered brave men
Knowing they’d never serve with their likes again
At three in the morning came the northbound train squeals
One felt for his duffle, one unlocked his wheels
One pushed and one watched
There’s no need to delve
One got the Six
The other the Twelve
© 2007 Paul Parducci All Rights Reserved
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