John J. Senchak

Rookie (9/9/63 / Wilkes-Barre, PA)

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A Matter Of Chance

A Soldier’s son, another one, an age of brothers bound
Comes down to this, this mournful grist, to grind us to the ground
One bears the chance of circumstance, and timing quite unkind
The simple fates of time and space, spell time spent on the line
No fright, no fear, though both be near, the awful sting of tears
Loosed, not shed, emotion dread, heard biting, hurtful jeers
And strength imposed, on those who know, the weight of trudging on
When valor, right, and buoyant sight are all but d

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