The Quiet Hours
And the stories fell in reams
Of the past and future dreams
For war had not bittered them
These valiant but normal men
Tales of home and pastures green
Of family, fields and flowing stream
Treasured times at campfires glow
Bring forth a smile in battles throw
For these are the quiet hours
Not the day when fear sours
A time to sit in reflection
Distant memories for collection
Not the angst or shedded tear
The shrapnels call or bullets fear
Foxhole, ditch they bravely sit
Tomorrows call and death outwit
Stars are stars on any night
Who ever gazes burn so bright
Your enemy sees them to
And makes that wish as you do
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