Sometimes Old Soldiers Die

The grass refuses to grow in that corner,
No matter, I have plans for it.
I had said last year, a gooseberry bush
Needed to grow there

To honor my fallen soldier,
My comrade in arms, the cat
Who held off four masked bandits
Until I came clattering into the side yard

With an aluminum ladder, the only
sidearm I could find at 3 a.m. in blackness
With no glasses nor shoes
Nor even pants it seems

I rescued him from the insurgents but
Sepsis took him 3 days later
And I buried him in that corner
Where no grass will grow.