The air was brisk and brittle that morning,
Frozen by news that came without warning,
We learned that six months can come all too quick
And a physician’s mouth can make you sick--
Too little time for all the plans we’d made,
But you wore the pin from that hand grenade
That the doctor pulled like a purple heart
You said each day was a fight to the death
In a war where lungs were stealing your breath
Your heartbeats were gunshots, less than precise
Munitions were low, but they would suffice
The enemy, slaying myriads ‘round
Was the lack of will to rise from the ground
And take one more step into the unknown
So when that fateful day came upon us
Unprepared for the end of this battle
We swore we’d contend in your honor
I’m sorry that we’re all such poor soldiers
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