WAR  STORIES

The years pass so swiftly,

    How quickly they fly!

As if pushed by the jet stream

In yonder blue sky.

And lately, it seems

I’m found more and more,

Retreating to memories

Of past glory and gore.

Which finds me accompanied

By aviators rare,

Their eyes wrinkled and browned

From the sun’s naked glare.

And I listen to stories

Of War I and War II,

ICD, Korea, DC-I, DC-2.

I am constantly speechless,

Enraptured, in awe

Of War Stories witnessed

That I never saw!

And I wonder, in silence,

These stories of skies:

Which are the truth,

And which are White Lies?

So I developed a system

To sort wheat from chaff,

When to cry silent tears,

And when to just laugh.

You listen, impassioned,

To each sacred word

Of skies full of fire,

Of wounded, sick birds.

But you watch him intently,

A scotch in his hand;

His hat cocked so smartly,

His smile smooth as sand,

One hand on his hip,

(Or somebody’s thigh):

Watch his lips; if they move,

     Then you’ll know it’s a lie!

Michael J. Larkin

  Captain, TWA (Retired)