Cold air blows through the open door.
The man sees a letter on the table.
It says he will be sent to war,
Will he go? Or will he not be able?

His wife and children come to greet him.
He thinks about the time ahead.
His memories become blurry and dim,
They fly away and his mind fills with dread.

His thoughts walk in and out of sight.
He sends a letter back, a denial.
He figures he has done what’s right,
Although his courage is on trial.

Two weeks later a package as come,
An envelope holding a white feather.
The insult burns, his fingers aren’t numb
Despite the ever-chilly weather.

The night is quiet, not a sound at all.
He has made up his mind and all is calm.
Planes will crash, and towers might fall,
He will go to fight in Vietnam.

Two years seemingly just comes and goes,
The time that he remains at war.
Well when will he come home, who knows?
Listen, there he is now at the door.


Three weeks is his time at home,
But then he must solemnly return
To the fight where his thoughts cannot roam,
To the battlefield where wounds will burn.

He has yet to tell his family that
He must go back to war and fight
No pictures or memories left to look at
The eve of his departure is tonight.

He leaves a letter on the welcome mat
To tell them that he went again to war.
He puts on his coat and his hat
And steps regretfully out the front door.

He goes into his car and sits for awhile
Staring blankly into the dark night’s sky.
But sitting there he just can’t seem to smile,
Can’t remember much, and he doesn’t know why.

The night is a shadow blocking out light
The light is a thought trying to survive.
But as the soldiers continue to fight,
A normal life can never thrive.

The will to live is a crackling fire,
It grows despite the wind’s warning cries.
As quickly as the crown runs under the wire,
Poseidon surrounds it, and causes its demise.

He sees a glowing peace sign ahead
And reaches for it with an outstretched hand
His hopes are completely shattered and dead,
Like a broken seashell scattered in the sand.

He drives away slowly down the street
Afraid of what could happen next.
His hollow heart has failed to beat.
His mind is racing, becoming perplexed.

He parks the car at the side of the road,
Just a few feet far from the mountains face.
Turns to see if he has been followed,
His mind again begins to race.


Thoughts from the last three years in war,
Have brought him here alone tonight.
A decision to feel pain no more,
Still the white dove seems to never take flight.

Like a miniature landslide,
The rocks on the cliff started to fall
He sat on the edge and cried,
Not a care or a thought at all.

He looks ahead at the river water.
He stands up and sees it below.
He knows that nothing lives forever.
He’ll stand the cold and just let go.

His mind pushed him forward,
But the wind pushed him back.
Whichever way he headed toward,
The ropes of common sense were slack.

As the wind died off and he leaned over
He saw what would happen then
His life had not been filled with clovers
The question isn’t what, but when?