Remember how they walked here, once
– their presence as vivid as yours or mine –
fodder for their leaders’ spoils,
for the glory of the nation,
for the war that would end wars.
There were jokes only they knew
– regaled during long hours in the trenches –
secrets shared and allegiances sworn.
The sole survivor recalled them,
many years later,
in his broken-down home
with paint peeling from the walls
and battered picture frames stacked on shelves.
A response to the freewrite prompt a few good men.
