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Memorial Day Band

The rhythm of the drums comes through, the marching of the feet,
Sometimes a shrill reminder, from the fife’s piercing tweet.
I stir a bit, as if to join, the celebrators there,
But then I settle down again, like dust motes in still air.

There was a time I strode about, and shouted with the boys,
A time when we were conquerors, equipped with brand new toys.
We leaped across the oceans! We flew up in the air!
And girls looked down and smiled at us, encouraging our stare.

We would return. We knew it! We were too young to die.
And so we took our weapons up, and never asked them why.
Why would we study History? What did we know of War?
We only did what young men do, and what’s been done before.

But lately, I’ve been thinking. I’ve had some time for that.
I should have studied more in school, not jumped at the drop of a hat.
Don’t get me wrong! I’m no coward! I would still have gone, I’m sure,
But at least I could tell my buddies, what it was we had tried to secure.

You see, there’s a dream that we live for, and which we will die for, too.
This sleep that I’m sleeping reminds me, that I ought to just share it with you.
I dreamed of a world full of wonder, where the walls were just marks on the land,

Of whose farms had the prettiest apples, or where showed our Grandfather’s hand.
And a gate was a door to a new place, you could visit, if you’d mind to behave,
And a beach was one twin with a brother, you could see just beyond that big wave.

I could walk into China like Polo, and say Hi to the Emperor there,
And he’d smile and he’d say something funny, and he’d tell me to pull up a chair.
Then we’d chat about silk and we’d chuckle, and he’d beat me a lot playing chess,
And then finally I’d have to say so long, you come visit my folks in the US.

I’d walk down the road where the world is, I’d be glancing around at the view.
I’d be looking real hard for a nice place, and for something important to do.

So I guess I shouldn’t complain, then, having fallen into this place,
I managed to live out a part of that dream, and I’m here with a smile on my face.
It wasn’t the nicest real estate, and it doesn’t have much of a view,
But I paid for it with the fame I sought, and at least I’m important to you.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . May 18, 2006