My father once sat waiting,
to live or die at roadside.
Kill or be killed!
Enemy or friend,
he shot first.
And in so doing,
he lived in flesh
but, died in spirit.
My father once sat waiting,
on a war tank at roadside.
Kill or be killed!
Enemy or friend,
he warmed himself.
Lounging on the tank,
listening, hearing,
of, final sounds inside.
Tick, tick, TICK,
my...
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