Heading Home

I never could forget those moments

Below the sound of gun fire

And the roar of planes overhead.

Sometimes I wish I could,

So I wouldn't be obligated to share them.

But now my time is drawing near,

And I'm being called home from the battlefield in my mind.

It's time to put down my guns, my gear, and my baggage,

And write the letter my hand would never let me write.

It's time to tell my story, before I become another casualty.