Lebanon, New Hampshire, in his heart
was relegated to his forgotten past.
He walked the walk of all brave men
but couldn’t find his way back again
for the demons of a war made sure
that warmth and comfort were no more.

For thirty years he roamed the land
of his birth - but like quicksand
returning home eluded yearning grasps
and the aches of lost time slowly pass.
Winter froze his mind and soul
and Spring thawed the icy mould;
Summer warmed his soul once more
Until Autumn carried him back to war

Perchance, a Christmas gift of grace
allowed two warriors to come face to face.
From times of war to a time of peace
both veterans were able to find release
on a Bridge honouring all Vietnam Vets;
a span that exists so that none forget.

And for that span, he’d searched so long;
from covered bridges and wooden logs
to war and hate, and terrible hurts
where youth departs and blood converts
innocence into a mire of blood
in hearts and minds, like a raging flood.

The bridge we found, he and I,
brought us home, now we can cry;
a cry of hope and joy, not pain
for we, both, have come back home again.