“Garrett’s
Letters”
My little devil-dog in training
taller than me and when
he graduates I won’t be able
to drunkenly attack with tickles and punches
No one yells for Mom to turn off the whining
about beer and lost love in the car anymore
We read every letter aloud
at first he shared his regrets, his apologies
for leaving us for his pathological first love but
He has followed his dream, his passion
to protect our country and follow Pop’s footsteps
As each letter arrives there is more writing
so small Mom needs her nonessential glasses
and more apparent enthusiastic anticipation
for violent, rigorous plans in his schedule.
The exhausting games are becoming
strength and entertainment.
Nothing but impressive honor has filled
my veins for sharing his blood.
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