It’s so wrong that I am here I was never meant to kill,

Firing this heavy weapon made of steel has no appeal,

My mind can’t always see why there’s times not to be best,

Now I wish I hadn’t been so open in my draft board test,

I was too young when I left home and wish I’d never gone,

The pull was too heavy and I left wondering if I was wrong,

A pain too strong with doubt as to how she felt pushed me,

Wandering came to be daily life I guess I was too blind to see,

My deferment had no value when that letter came in the mail,

It’s one of the few letters not a bill that came as far as I can tell,

If I could run back home I would run for days until I’m there,

Heard a song by Tom Jones coming home to his lady fair,

A stark reality of life woke me to realize I may go home that way,

Walking beside my casket trying to help my girl along the way,

I don’t want to go home this way please protect me from harm,

My dreams since seventeen are to walk away with her on my arm,

It came to me just yesterday that my time home may be all I had,

To die at twenty one because of war’s draft made me very sad,

I’ve held her picture dear since I left home I’m on picture two,

John Fogerty sings protests loud at the base yet I’m so very blue,

I’ve wondered has anyone listened to the words he sings of them,

It’s a double edged sword to listen to songs written by him,

I love each song and line but they are written for the non-drafted,

If only a song to love your drafted brother had been crafted,

Sing me home I beg and let me drag Main to see her drive by,

Last time I saw her our kiss goodbye made tears fall from my eye,

Sadly goodbye is my final word but if reading my poem made her cry,

Then I should have said “I love you” before I kissed her my final goodbye.

The end, for Patti.