You speak to me only in letters
Written from days in the past
The boots you once wore in the corner
(Still sit there)
A flag encased in a glass
Newspaper clippings turned yellow
Tattered and torn through the years
Read over and over hundreds of times
Filling my eyes with your tears
With your tears
There's six feet of dirt
Between you and me
And harder and harder as it came to be
I stood tall
For I am the son of my father
Who fought and died in the war