Coming Home Poem by titus morrison

the return is not as easy as i thought
the odds have taken tourn and have been unkind
a thousand memory which i forgot
now resourect and watch across my mind
the drummer beats his drum the army roll
and at my back i hear teh choir sing
a song of hope for gone

a morning for the bitter pain they call me fire burn
i stand upon the fields my father stood
the sweat runs down my back as i decide
to stand and fight
to battle for the good
and die where greater men in me had died