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The Fourth and Johnny
The passing parade, a veritable cascade
of red white and blue hanging from poles.
Cymbals clanging, big bass drums banging,
stirring patriotic fervor in citizen souls.
Hotdogs and snacks, barbecued baby backs,
in backyards charring over red hot coals.
Crowds in city parks, skyrockets' soaring sparks,
eyes fixed aloft, sitting on grassy knolls.
Bombs bursting in air, not meant to scare,
it only sounds like war, no need for hiding holes.
Then,
Thoughts of Johnny alone, so far from home,
doing bravely what he and his buddies are told.
While Dems and Reps exchange political threats,
in well tailored suits, their hearts stone cold.
And we in our comfort hardly think of the effort
of Johnny and the rest who don't want to fold.
So,
When he comes home again, leave him alone again,
to mourn and regret, those, whose names are
written in gold.