ramblings and things

924,226 poems read


Men of my generation



Just arent supposed to cry



So I’m standing here



With just sightly moist eye



 



For more than fifty years



You were y friend



Friendshi overcoming 



Most things in the end.



But  not this time



Thanks to foolish pride;



Neither ableto see things



From the other one’s side.



 



Now I’m standing here 



For old time’s sake



Booted and suited 



For your funeral and wake,



And I’ll stand bh your box



And whisper ypir name:



If it were me 



You’d do the same.



 



Then its off to the wake



To chew on the fat



Old squaddie mates 



Are pretty good at that.



But for a while 



We’ll just sit and think.



On the table untouched,



The absent friends drink.



 



Goodbye my old mate



Since squaddie days,



Always remembered for 



Your eccentric ways



And when it’s time



To be be on our way



We’ll wonder who’ll be missing  



At our next funeral day.



 



And as men of our generation



Just aren’t supposed to cry



We’ll all shake hands



With just sightly moist eye



 



Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Wake 2