Image courtesy of Australian War Memorial from Wikimedia.
The method of selction for National Service in Vietnam was by picking birthdays.
Bazza and I both rolled the dice,
with the numbers our birthdays,
partners in that unlucky lottery.
When it landed I was the one free,
but for him it meant the army.
Some years later I met him again
both drinking in the same pub,
so, I thought we might catch up
the years lost in between;
then I saw his eyes –
and what they’d seen.
© D G Moody 2022
Poetry by D G Moody
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Written on 2022-04-07 at 10:38
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