Camo

By
The Boys got big thoughts
Much larger than his soles
Limbs and branches fork out
From the tree of youth tolls

These nimble, tiny hands
Fumble through the years
Scared, rough, palms of sand
The stemming dark leaves through which sunlight peers

Hid under the foliage
He was just like the men
Romanced the wreckage
To promote blue, white, and red

And for that one moment in time
One like never before
Those big thoughts serpentine
And glorified foreign shores

So down he dropped
Passing impressive heights
Grounded on wet sod
With profound insight

From an umbrella of shade
Nurturing canopy of love
A home so sweet, the one she made
But away he flew, on the wings of a dove

He shoved those scarred, broken hands
Into his pockets, and looked off far
To defend an illusion on a distant land
He created a conflict, and enlisted in war

How many paths must a boy walk till he is a man?
"One," a deaf man preached
"To defend what is right." Then the Sam turned to run as fast as he can.
Pride was taught, and and the ignorant were besieged.

Boys play war, and men make treaties
To amend, and then resend
To uphold whats right and make what's green
To walk that path, a plank, a dead end.





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