Monarchs and generals
seldom know meadows
that haunt soldiers late in life
where butterflies go
to seek the sun
When they do, they masquerade
as heroes on parade stands
claiming full honors due
forgotten regiments felled
on fields of fire
War room warriors need not march
side by side with men who’ve worn
combat boots and carried rifles,
nor be crowned with laurels,
have the colors raised,
or statues cast in memoriam
They were never there soldier to soldier,
battle after battle, eye to eye,
in the tumult, stench and grime
of those days when smoke
devoured the light