TWENTY YEARS
right hand raised at Trophy Point
silver sweat rolled off his nose
pressing a silhouette against the wall
billows of steam around him rose
hiding from the Purple Sash
he rubbed his blistered West Coast feet
and learned the Days with hooded light
the rumble that came from deep within
his stomachs void of plebe sized bites
or his egos sudden crash
too soon the Hellcats brittle tune
too slow the clocks crawl to June
too tight the tarbuckets slippery grip
too close the gray wools clinging fit
snow pile up on his mirror shoes
cold winds slashed like Civil War sabers
he threw himself into the academic engine
relentlessly fueled in the Halls of Thayer
where woogers never end
area squads marched him longer
confinement crushed his sagging will
classmates stepped upon his toes
the OC reached for the demerit quill
To write him up again
too fast the firstie weekends flew
too long the road to 202
too quiet the laughter within the walls
too heavy the obstacle course medicine ball
twenty years have come and gone
his life is blessed with child and wife
the memories of those four gray years
are from another distant life
before brush-shine land
he swore that he would never return
no matter how urgent the trumpets call
yet here he stands with life long friends
and admits to himself that because of it all