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The Last One AliveJoe limped down the stairwell, of that old saloongot a bottle of cognac, waited in the back roomhe knew the others, would soon be coming incos the army rangers, turned four young strangersinto lifelong friendsit was many years ago, when they were just kidsoutside Paris defending, an old stone bridgewith the bond between them, they were never alonethey never retreated, so if they were defeatedthat bridge would be blownby the last one alivefrom a battle back in '45he'd say a sad prayer for friendswho didn't survivethe last one alivethey drank rain from their helmets, shared bent cigarettesthen held their position, with fixed bayonetsthe half moon was a white flag, hanging in the skyold Joe remembered, that German surrenderedthen began to cryhe was the last one alivefrom a battle back in '45he said a sad prayer for friendswho didn't survivethe last one aliveJoe's squad agreed to meet yearly, and raise a hearty toast but last time just two showed up, and they were nearly ghostsso Joe waited for hours, till it was way past onebid them all farewell, climbed that dark stairwellknowing he'd becomethe last one alivefrom a battle back in '45he said a prayer for friendswho didn't survivethe last one alive(c)2005 Robert George