He Was My Best Friend II

He Was My Best Friend II

I hold the hand of a mother,
Her son was also my brother;
We had fought together,
In any type of weather.

I see pain in her eyes,
And her heart slowly dies;
We watch the flag fold,
Our hands become cold.

I look up at the sky,
And try not to cry;
He’s in a better place,
He will meet God face to face.

I become mad,
And his mother becomes sad;
I stand up and walk away,
This is an awful day.

I drop to my knees,
And my body begins to freeze;
I wish war didn’t have a high fee,
Instead of him I wish it was me.

I can’t be strong,
All this happened wrong;
He was suppose to come home by my side,
But instead he died.

His mother grabs my hand,
But I can’t stand;
I’m overwhelmed with pain,
The hurt I feel is a permanent stain.

I begin to feel shame,
For his death I am the one to blame;
I told him everything would be fine,
His death should have been mine.

I walk to the grave,
He could have been saved;
I touch the tombstone,
My pain has grown.


I begin to salute,
I hear the rifles begin to shoot;
A tear comes from my eye,
Then I begin to cry.

I stand there for hours,
And fix all the flowers;
Then I sit in the chair,
I now know war is not fair.

His father stands over the burial site,
I see the sadness he tries to fight;
He will never forget his son,
Knowing he died next to his gun.

The sun slowly dims away,
And I begin to pray;
My last regards are what I send,
He was my best friend.

Clayton Williams
4/29/11