© Jeanne E Webster All Rights Reserved
“Reveille” tones spitting through loudspeakers
Meddlesome nimble attention seekers;
“HUT, TOOP, THREEP, FOURP” cadence calls
Tramping of boots in sync with the squalls.
Parade grounds filled with companies galore
Marching bands blast soul-tingling roars;
Mess hall feasting for fun holiday fares
Sense of belonging to dear family flares.
Every three years the moves I dreaded
Overseas or stateside tours we headed;
Released old friends and united with new
Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, ciao and adieu.
Ending my tour of these military recalls
A song upon which the ghost spirits fall;
Lights Out tenderly bids darkness to call
“Taps” chills the soul as tears gently crawl.