There was a young man,
we don’t talk about him anymore,
left to serve his country,
marched off to war.
He lived in our town,
went to school too,
had a paper route and played ball,
the things boys do.
I remember him still,
his name now on the Vietnam Wall,
we spent our childhood together,
I recall how much he liked fall.
He was a good soldier,
dedicated to every tour,
there was a young man,
we don’t talk about him anymore.
James Spain