The Far Away
We took them
with us
into the places of fire
...and yet
we remember them
Boys
afraid
now silent
and deep
dead
in the far forest
of forever
The place where poets die.
We write their lives
and die again
and again
and hold them.
Welcome Home Woody!
listen
to the lost guitars
..and hoist your dream
to the remnant dreams
of a sad sky.
We put our sad hands together
over there.
I loved them
and they are the rainbow
that I dream.
All of them!
My Soldiers
My Hopes
My America
...and so it goes.
CAL
© Lou J. Klaiber 11/3/2004
This poem inspired Thoughts in the Night
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