Where Are You?



Where are you now, courageous friend?

Will I ever see you again?

My boyhood buddy, who as a child,

fought those armies, fierce and wild;



who knighted us, each one by one,

your sword in hand, leading us on,

storming ramparts of massive stone,

with us, yet somehow, always alone.



Over the hills, our small, brave forces

galloped along on rough stick horses,

following you, whose battle cry

echoed back from a cloudless sky.



You lived at the very edge of town,

in a narrow shack, all run down,

you and your mother, old for her age,

a victim of your father's rage.



You came to school in ragged clothes,

head held high, but there were those

who looked at you and whispered things,

refusing to share the playground swings.



Then at fifteen you broke away.

I remember well, that cloudy day.

One small bag held all you owned,

as you marched off, resolved, alone.



I rarely heard a word from you,

but hoped, somehow, you'd made it through.

You talked to someone who had a plan,

and joining others, fought for our land.



Now my journey has come to an end,

I know what lies around that bend ...

White crosses, all in a straight row,

the name on one I'm sure to know.



I stand in silence, wreath in hand,

no mourners now, no service band.

I know I'll never love another

as I did my hero, my soul's lost brother.



by Cal Gandy