Formation
By grumpy3445
The sunrise paints the clouds with a pink and red brush a cold wind whips between the buildings the cold burns their faces, their hands like ice yet they stand still, unmoving, waiting they have served for many years, sacrificing much for service to their country only another veteran would understand their patience they wait in neat columns and rows sorted by rank and unit bearing the misery, for they know it won't last like all miseries, this one eventually ends only to be repeated again, and again for countless generations for that is the price of freedomThis one occured to me as I was freezing, standing in formation at Fort Dix, NJ, this Jan. Must have been about 18 degrees that morning. Written January 6th, 2002 © on Feb 23 2002 02:41 PM PST 0 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"The sunrise paints the clouds with a pink and red brush..."