|
Rainbow's End |
 |
|
The rainbow that I search for
has no pot of gold at
the end;
the final treasure that I seek
is a reunion
with old friends.
The ones who heard Death's
sibilant voice whispering in their ears
signaling an end
forever to
the war's insistent fears.
The ones who
crouched beside me
as the mortars thundered loud,
or
rushed to the aid of another
and their own waiting
shrouds.
The ones who reveled with me
through the
vibrant Spanish nights
on the sensual Costa Brava
in
the days before firefights.
The guitars singing
softly then
spoke of love and not of war;
their voices
whispering to me,
"�Quisiera bailar, m� amor?"
"�S�,
s�, a m�, me gusta!"
and we danced away the hours,
all
unaware of the coming of
the deadly monsoon showers.
The years have grown long since
Sweet Barcelona and
III Corps;
but the guitars and the mortars
both sing
to me once more.
Is it odd my strongest dreams
are
of friends from Spanish shores
and the buddies with whom
I served
in that lousy, stinking war?
Well, the
friends waiting now
traveled down dissimilar streets,
but the reunion drawing closer
needs them all to be
complete.
Life is Joy; Life is Sorrow:
Follow the
Rainbow into Tomorrow. |
By Thurman P. Woodfork
Copyright 2004
Listed
February 13, 2011 |
|
|
