A Solider’s Thoughts
My thoughts seem to shift and pass,
as dust will blow through tangled grass.
When borne like whispers upon the wind,
they flow from now…by then , to when?
I’ve stood alone with frosting breath,
pondering the purpose of birth and death.
And the interval between..
where I exist and the part unseen.
And as I stood ‘neath that old street lamp,
I glanced at my house through the cold and damp.
To become frightened that my windows seemed,
like shut eyes inwardly watching the lives in a dream.
In shock my soul knelt..in the subtle shade
of a broken belief and I softly prayed,
that man would realize that his true existence,
was never meant to offer resistance,
or persecution to those he would shun.
But into silence my words fell one by one.
So now I watch through my window-eye,
the days of my life as they pass me by,
and the shadowed people who had approached my door,
now only pass beyond and stop no more.
Then my thoughts which seem to shift and pass,
blow as dust though tangled grass.
by Ted Underwood
This was shared with me by a friend of Ted Underwood. He would like to hear from him. So if you know a Ted Underwood who wrote this poem during a sleepless night in the jungle of Vietnam. Give him the message to contact me to get in touch with his old friend. Many thanks.