The sun is bright and warm,
and powerful.
It caresses my face,
and embraces my soul,
and disappears.
For a few moments it will be gone,
on a battlefield of blue,
engaging and contesting a cloud in its path.
The sun will prevail.
And it will return from its conflict.
and as it returns, I am astounded
by its energy and its zeal.
The warmth is relaxing,
so very relaxing.
And I think,
And I wonder,
And I dream.
An ally and a friend,
a comrade and a companion,
has paid the petrifying price of war
and I mourn.
I desire not to think.
I desire not to wonder.
I desire not to dream.
But I do.
It seems inevitable.
The sun,
and a friend,
will never die.
Copyright © M.W. Beamesderfer
Viet Nam, 1970