The Mists of Memories

Into my mind creeps the Mists
Every time my head the pillow hits.
Like yesterday, their faces I see,
hands beckoning, arms waving, calling to me.
Calling, calling, from the Mists of Memories

At the edge of my eyesight,
just a whisper of sound,
The past calls through the mists
from all around.

I peer through the fog hoping to see
friends from the past,
friends dear to me.
But I can't seem to focus,
can't seem to see,
the faces barely seen
through the Mists of Memories.

Brother you call each night in my dreams
You call, "Don't forget me, don't let our sacrifice fade!
Don't forget the bond through blood that was made!"
You call to me over the mountains and seas,
Call through the ethereal

Mists of Memories

Tarlander
Vietnam 71-72