They are both on the field as they run
They hear the distant shots of the gun
They turn to each other both from different places
Yet confused, scared, with the same look on their faces.
The other line approaches with speed quite concise
Long, brown, barrels point their aim very precise
Both friends still worlds apart
Are finally joined together by the beating of their heart.
Blood pours out as the flowers in late spring
Pity for their families, as presents they will not bring
The common man will not see past the skin
Regardless how many die, as long as they are given a win
The flag flies even though the air is still
Because for one man’s country, his life taken, yet no reward to fulfill
Death is the only commonality they share
As forgotten memories lie tranquil everywhere
His skin black all others white
It’s the job of no man, woman, or child to fight
American he lived, American he died
His death brought Nations together, when all others merely tried.