The trench was dark that year, just as the mingles of war…
That’s behind us now, I still remember him.
His brown hair and blue eyes, a strong will to live in peace.
It was the death of legend, I realize enough to protest.
A morning like any would be his last, when the German charged the line.
Everything came too quickly, Jameson would be selfless, laying over the grenade.
The strong blur began to fade, as I wonder what might of been.