I once met an anguished veteran,
A bombardier,
Crying as he discarded his medals,
He adored his flag,
And loved to fly just as much,
O’er mountain and border,
Turboprop and piston and jets,
But the air is the realm of war as well as cherubs,
They abused his aeronautical love,

He grew tired of painting red upon maps,
Weary of scorching the edges of the parchment,
Dropping bombs for powerful men,
Craters where lives once flourished,
The guilt overtook his pride over the years,
Aircraft were no more iron angels,
But dragons with dread munitions,
So he dropped those platinum medals,
As he once expelled hell from the sky.

  1. The price of war…darkness of the soul. Well penned.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s