Tag

there was a tag on that rag top convertible that read
"back our boys in Vietnam"
back then  I was only a kid I didn't know what it meant
no not then

and daddy had already passed on to those shores
you hear about but you've never been
sometimes I still wish for the strength of his hands
to set me straight again

mama mourned and I think
he took the best of her
they buried her when they buried him
it was just seven years later

we ran wild in the summer sun
there was fire in the summer sky when it rained
lost in the what ifs and the cold blue moons
I was friends with the shadows that knew my name
but rain has never tasted that sweet again

home isn't home
they left seven standing on their own
borders were broken, secrets spilled over
glue of our family was gone
seven different paths, we all moved on

daddy's old green army blanket was a childhood fort
brother slept with it over him
now he sleeps next to mama
I take flowers for two when I go visit them

but there was a flag for a soldier
left in the hands of my mother
there's nothing left of the house he built
he sleeps in the mountains close to heaven
now all their pictures are fading
but when I look in my eyes I still see a ghost of them