a lunch invitation gone whackado
So proudly they marched through the town on that day.
For they knew not a thing would get into their way.
The whacados marched with their heads in the air, their eyes affixed, I guess, on something up there.
As the town folk watched them with fear,
Each soldier, one after the other appeared.
Like a non- stop machine, a continuous stream,
Pouring in like the rain, to a trickling stream.
Tough, their boots, strapped up to the knee, I’m surprised, through the shades they wore, they could see.
They had a mission, a job to do. What it was, I wonder, if they’d even a clue.
The orders that were given to them,
were to react to what, they viewed, a malicious attack.
I wonder, and still do today, how a lunch invitation was misconstrued in that way.
They marched, in great form, to our leaders, whom sat quiet and still, Waiting to hear what they had to say.
We saw The big one in front do the telling,
What he didn’t see is that all he was doing, was yelling..
So silent and calm our chosen remained.
They waited their turn, to come into the game. Finally, when this moment arose, out from their mouths, our truth was exposed.
Oh boy, I’ve never seen such a sight of
massive retreat, when so ready to fight.
Just a moment ago, these soldiers who knew, now know nothing that they once knew, was true.
We stared sturdy, yet kindly, into their eyes, as
something, inside of them, quietly died.
They, for the first time, I think in their lives,
Actually learned something they’d before not realized.
That maybe the next time they know somethings true, they’ll check, first, the facts and get back to you.
What’s more is that they see, I think happily, is that not with every town comes a threat.
Maybe…just maybe, a lucnh invitattion is nothing, but that.