Standing At The Door

Standing at the door,
dog tags in hand.
About to tell
a loved one about
their loss.

Thinking of how
it could have been me.
Wondering how they
will react.

Reaching up
with heavy hand,
I knock on the door.

Waiting nervously,
I prepare myself
for what's to come.

Wishing anxiously
someone else had come.
Wanting desperately
not to have to
deliver such news.

He gave his life
for this country
that he loved.

Dying so suddenly
without warning.
He never got to say
"Goodbye, my love."

Sadly thinking
how to treat
the wounds
I'm sure to inflict.

Praying for peace
and getting only
a saddened heart.

The only tribute
I can give
is this poem.

His memory
will never fade
from my mind.

His lust
for life
never replaced.

His joy
in his family
and his friends,
never forgotten.

He will
live on
'till the end of time.

He is
one of us,
the unforgotten vet.

epoet