I walk the darkened bunker walls

where lockers line the way

down the endless straight-wide tall

as last at end of day

I close the door to leave for home.

–

And there it shines—just at the end

a light and shadow splotch

that seems a little fire glow

a sentry keeping watch

a bit of life not yet gone home.

–

I hear a jaunty whistle-tune

and rumble of the wheels

as the single man platoon

cleans the bathroom mirrors.

for students gone. At home.

–

The whistle sounds epiphany

the realization bright

society’s polyphony

plays in tune and right

because some soldiers don’t go home