Take Me Home

He told me to take this uniform,
And wear it proud
Now how can I? When all I am,
Is wearing out.

Inside my mind, body and soul,
This muddy trench,
Has taken its toll,
And how awful is its stench.

My buddy is lying next to me,
Holding his rifle with a shaking hand,
His voice quavering as we speak,
"How long til the next bomb will land?"

As I wish for my home,
I hear a sound,
Maybe a foot on my driveway's stone?
I dream, as I crouch lower to the ground.