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Description
I look up and feel it drying fast
He looks down and thinks about the past
Just beyond me gazes his sight
Eyes open and wide with shock and fright

He mouths a word that must be a name
My blood and his, the age is the same
I reach out to comfort and pat his thin hand
But that hand moves, too, in that distant land

Quickly he's moving to kneel beside me
"Grandpa, it's me! I'm fine; can't you see?"
A stumble, a start, and his eyes come back
He sees the fresh meat lying neatly stacked

As the tears flow down he turns his head
Face crumpling at the fear he dreads
Of memories of men he won't forget
Of the blood and tears he'll never regret