....TAPS....

    Sitting alone, like a ghost in the darkness, drinking to old memories.


    Drinking with his two buddies, Jose Cuervo and Corona. Toasting to his two best friends,


    Pain and Misery.


    Talking to old photographs, wishing they would talk back. Dressing himself in full class 'As'


    and jump boots. Spit-shined and polished.


    Staring at a soldier who's staring back at the man who stands all alone with glassy eyes,


    as Taps plays on the stereo in the room.


    He sits hugging a bottle close to his chest, it's semi-square edges, so warm in his embrace. So


    warm to his body, as he takes another drink.


    And Taps plays on...repeat after repeat.


    He looks out of the window and stares up at the night sky and thinks that maybe he would like to


    touch the moon...drink up the stars...run across the dark sky and never stop until he reaches the


    end.


    The cool night breeze drifts through the open window. Candle flames sway to the mood. Shadows


    dance slowly across the walls and floor.


    And Taps plays on.


    He stands before the long mirror, staring at a soldier at attention and he recognizes war in his


    face twinged with sadness in his glassy eyes.


    And Taps plays on.


    He remembers funeral details from the past and he hears the shots from the twenty one
   
   
    salute echo in his memory.


    The song comes to another end as he raises his hand and he hears,


    "Ready! Aim! Fire!"


    And Taps plays on.












Written in 1998
Published in December 2015
by AnDrew S.
Title: TAPS.