When we got off the plane-
After a year in Iraq,
There were flags and banners,
They read,
Welcome home troops
An elementary school choir sang,
The local news zoomed in,
Mothers, children, girlfriends and wives,
Clustered to greet us.
Everyone was looking our direction.
There was a frail old man,
Standing in the back, alone,
Without a smile. He saw us,
And approached slowly.
Hands in front of him,
Clenched together.
He took a gasping breath,
In an anxious voice he said,
“I’m so ... sorry.”
