We Saved A Seat
We keep a place in the parlor, a seat for an old friend,
Someone who went to fight for us, we shall not see again.
But just in case he wanders by, he’s welcome to a rest.
We’ve got the seat saved just for him, as flowers will attest.
We don’t expect to see him, though we think of him a lot.
We only know he said, “I’m going, and I’ll give it all I’ve got.”
We know he gave it that and more, and didn’t pass in vain.
I guess we sorta knew it when he stepped up on the train.
I’d rather think of him that way, instead of in the mud.
And certainly I wouldn’t want to think about the blood.
Determined was his visage, and noble was his cause,
And when we count our blessings ‘round, we stop here and we pause.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . May 3, 2004
© 2004