Standing at the position of attention
among the sea of black, brown, and green.
Mapping out a nearing future,
constantly trying not to be seen.
Dewdrops drip down softened trees,
and dry before they hit the floor.
The pain, the heat, the sweat and stink,
nothing stops as we push for more.
Old Glory waves her hands on high
as inside, we breathe with pride.
Six weeks of passing, goals everlasting.
A briefing for the seat on our next ride.
From rainbows, to trainees, to AIRMEN,
we held on for one hell of a time.
This coin, this uniform, this flag and country
I can step back and finally call mine.
To my brothers and sisters of the 331st,
with whom I shed so many tears...
This experience, and you, will not be forgotten
as I trudge forward throughout the years.
Dedicated to FLT 391 and 392, 331 TRS
Lackland AFB, TX 000517-000630
No comments:
Post a Comment