Bunkerin’ Blues

BUNKERIN’ BLUES— For CAPT (Ret.) George M.

“Brother, where’ve you been, say?”

“Bunkerin’ in”—

I admit (err, confess)

As though it’s a sin.

Yes, it is winter

Cold wind’s howlin’ outside

But you know that even come Spring

(Summer too, I’ll still hide.)

It isn’t mere fear,

Nor lack of all care.

It’s rather the fact

That sometimes we’re not there.

See, we’ve given our “all”

Most all of the time.

So to go out with our guard down–

Might as well be a crime.

But lest the world sees

That hope’s fled from our soul.

We’ll leave it to our brothers,

To lift us out of this hole*.

   (*With “Special Thanks” to R. Johnsey, once again, for lifting me out of mine.)

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