good for nothing

catefrances

i asked my pappa
what war was like
he said,it's death son
that was the only time
we talked about it
the only time i dared ask
a warm summer breeze
passing time on the porch
i remember the look in his eyes
the flatness of his voice
a sadness revealed
he said he wondered why
he wasn't the only one
what they were doing there
he wasn't sure
from today
looking back he still doesn't know
friends were lost
their dying breath
his hand wet with life
expired
the noises come at night
the smells
and sights inside his mind
when his guard is down
of a time he can't forget
of boys not yet men
never will be
remembered
lost