My best friend died today, my friend when young and old.
Should his story be told?
He served in the U.S. army during Vietnam, he served uncle Sam.
But in Germany where nothing was going on, he was called up, drafted, trained, then gone.
He was an Irish citizen working in the U.S.A., unamerican as were a quarter of the boys sent away.
I don’t wish to write an epic, the thought would make me sick.
He served two years then went back and worked again then was called up again.
He emigrated to Australia, a man among men.
So, draft dodger, you are dead.
You could have died in Vietnam instead.
I don’t feel you’ve really gone away, I feel your presence, friendship is here to stay.
Now I must plug along alone without you on the phone.
May I live up to you and friendship too.
You said you wanted to leave nothing behind.
I have your memory in my mind.
You were part of what makes life good.
I would be with you if I could.
I never will forget.
I’m glad we met.
I could go on and on about how good it was to know you but I don’t feel you’ve gone.
With me you live on.
You believed in me and what I do.
May there be more like you.
My brother wanted me to add to this stuff, but I think this is enough.
Okay, you died on Elvis’s birthday, so I heard.
I won’t say another word.
8th January, 2018