Do you see him on cold mornings walking from the woods?
How he stumbles slowly; drifting behind the old trolley station;
where he remains for a while;
only to emerge, still disheveled but washed and in a sun dried shirt.
Do you remember him before he went to war?
When he played for high school and made first team?
How in boys choir he sometimes sang solo?
How he always sat with his grandmother?
Now he seems to never sing or clearly remember.
He can pronounce no words on war or where he has been.
Firemen pull a chair for him beside the station door.
He sits alone and waves a stiff salute as people pass.
Where is the boy he was? can any hear his song?
Where are those who sent him to war? will they come here
to sit and wave and say what happened?
Do you see him stiffly stand and return alone into the woods?