Soldiers

We are two little soldiers
Marching along,
Sharing our lives,
Singing the same song,
Two kindred spirits,
No longer young,
We battled the world
For fiftyseven years
Through joys and laughter,
Pain and tears,
We marched together
To the same drummer's beat
From youth to old age,
Winter's cold, summer's heat,
We raised two fine children
Who flew our nest
And with pride we can say
They turned out the best,
We're now old and gray,
But we're still marching along,
In the evening of life
We still sing the same song...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2008 Alfred Charasz