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In seasonS.C.Jones
It was the Springtime of my being,
...when Vietnam was all strife and war.
It was zenith to young pilots of the rotor.
It was a time of soaring, blading free, seeing.
Seeing a time torn between valor and cause;
...valor in duty, valor in deeds and honor.
Cause thrown unjust, unjust from away.
Here I came to fight oppression, never pause.
Pause and reflect now to my aging sorrow,
...when long ago my youth was in season.
I was bold and dashing now in remembering,
...when my existence knew nor cared of tomorrow.
Tomorrow may bring joy unknown to my day.
It may bring me happiness unmeasured,
...or it may bring depths of despair and sorrow.
Yet, in my dreams, flying above, all cares away.
Away to memories past, present now appear,
Then I was young. Now young in remembering,
...when days were as new as the Spring of my life.
Now yesterdays gone forever; forever yet near,
...near as my longing days, days I hold dear.
Dear, when there I go to memories past,
...past all care and concern, past all my reason.
Life was young there. There I was in season.
S.C.Jones
Comments welcome.
All contents copyright (C) 1996, S.C.Jones
All rights reserved.
Revised: February 7, 1997
URL: http://www.oocities.org/Athens/Acropolis/1915/
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