My brothers, lying in peaceful fields, the grace of your deaths in a thousand laughing children, in the quiet of the skies and the calm of the evening where a dusked flag moves in the breeze...
salute. Salute.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
That's me. The guy in the old Monte Carlo next to you at the light. No one special. Seat filler on the bus, answers the phone at customer service, leaves a penny.
No comments:
Post a Comment