The Fallen

                              

Some fell on the beaches, some fell from the sky.
Some died in the trenches, never knowing why.

They died for flags, they died in rags,
in clothes so battle torn,
Some died before they fully knew
why they were even born.

Some died upon the spots they fell,
and went quickly to their graves.
Some lived to tell their tales of hell,
wondering why they had been saved.

The best, the worst, dead last or first
they all died just the same.

Some had scars which couldn't be seen,
or plates worn inside their heads.
With lungs so scarred from gasses
they could hardly draw a breath.

But all of them died heroes,
on this we all agree.
They died deaths not for them selves,
but died for you and me.

Photo by Wm. Shone Williams
Circa July 1918 in France

Wm. Shone Williams died at age 43, with a metal plate in his head and lungs scarred from mustard gas. It took him 25 years to die. A belated casualty of "the War to end all wars." He was the grandfather I never knew.

Ode to Arcturus

Every year around this time
I change my "wishing" star.
There are only 4 of them,
held close, though they are far.

Light years beyond where I stand
and gaze at their magic light,
my wishing stars look down on me
and keep me safe throughout the night.

When Orion fades and Betelguese
have left my nighttime view,
Arcturus comes to guard the Bear
and bring me luck anew.

If you don't have a wishing star
then take a look and see,
just find the Dipper's handle
and share it's love with me.

Ed's Place - "Nighthawks"

In the all night diner in the corner of my mind
there isn't anything that you can't find.
Eggs, pancakes, ham and more
there's nothing here you cannot score,
in the all night diner in the corner of my mind.

At the corner of Wide Awake and Dreams
you'll find everything and anything it seems,
that you have ever craved
or lose everything you've ever saved,
at the corner of Wide Awake and Dreams.

Though the guy who owns the joint may not be cool,
he's street wise and he doesn't suffer fools.
He'll fix up  a broken heart,
and stop fights that never start,
though the guy who owns the joint may not be cool.

In the cafe that's always open all night long,
Theres a jukebox that always plays your favorite song.
The lyrics might be kind of trite,
but it plays them every night,
in the cafe that's always open all night long.

It's a place that never seems to draw a crowd,
but in a subdued kind of way is always loud.
It's a place to wait for dawn,
sipping coffee while you yawn,
it's the place that never seems to draw a crowd.

There's one just like this place in any town,
and it seems to draw the people who are down.
For folks who have no jobs
and hearts filled with lonely sobs,
there's one just like this place in any town.

Inspired by Edward Hooper's "Nighthawks".