My thoughts were of him, another old soldier
who touched my heart with his writing of war.
He risked his own life to save the wounded
and tried to keep them away from death's door.
He learned first-hand the horrors laid before him,
took the time to listen as last words were said.
Twenty-four years had not prepared this medic
for all of the pain and suffering that lay ahead.
He smiled as each wounded solder recovered
and shed tears alone as someone passed on.
His courage strong and the great love of living
made him special; I can't believe he's gone.
Too many times we have good intentions
to write that letter, make that telephone call.
Life gets busy and we don't take the time
and sadly then, it's much too late, after all.
I meant to call him, I meant to write him -
tell him how beautiful were the colors of Fall.
Life got too busy and I didn't take the time
and sadly, then, it's much too late, after all.
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