You were fifteen, I was thirteen
on that night not so long ago.
Both of us so very shy, that we
never said much more than hello.
It was our first, and only, blind date;
we just walked around for awhile.
I still remember your blond hair,
and, your shy, uncertain smile.
I never saw you again after that night;
were we too young to know what to do?
I never did forget you, though, and
a few years later, I asked about you.
He said you had gone to Viet Nam...
You were killed...you weren't coming back.
I thought of your smile as he spoke,
and, wished we'd never lost track.
I don't think that I believed him, yet,
I didn't know how to find out.
Thirty years later, I still wasn't sure,
holding on to any shadow of doubt.
Then, today, while at the bookstore,
it finally became real to me...
There, in a book about the Wall
were the names of the dead, A thru Z.
I think maybe my heart stopped,
as I scanned over all of the names.
So many lives lost...all so young...
And WHY? Who can we blame?
Quickly, my eyes filled with tears
as I saw that it was true...
Robert Lynch did die in Viet Nam...
I guess, in my heart, I always knew.
Peace Always, Robert