Rise

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Just as he toddles and babbles and walks,
My baby is off to the war.
No longer is he sound asleep in my arms
With dimples and smiles and more.
His heart is so young,
His years just begun.
Oh what is this stupid war for?
His complexion will wrinkle
And whittle and wit.
He’ll come home in bits if he comes home at all.
Lord why does this war make little boys rise,
just to force them to trip and to fall?

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