Everyday they come for awhile and say friend,
hold a wave and show their smile,
then leave once again.

The sun has taken them whole
to be delivered to lands long away.
Forlorn am I when each one says their way.
Of the road, of the solider they take the way.

The way they go, with a step and a shake,
they jump into the fray of well gone travels
to and fro up the ways long forlorn.

As they move away from the land
we all met, and I move myself away ever so further

My path is opposite to theirs
and so I look back to steal a glance of it all,
of the suns beaten path, of the way they went
and that they strive through and through.

The rough road of a solider, they stand and go.
And I, I took the lonely road to write their stories with sweet amore.
The ones that say friend and fight for me, I shall write for them.