San Diego. Fabled land.
Where you stuck out a young, bronzed hand.
To be awarded, for all to see.
The paper passed, from him to me.
Weeks of training, it had been fun.
Most had pride. Some had none.
The paper hangs framed, on the living room wall.
Remembrance of a youth, who once stood tall.
In front of men from around the land.
Young men all, an honored band.
You were their chosen, their leader by lot,
With them always, in cold wind or hot.
A time in your life, the best of the best.
Pride, but not ego, beat in your chest.
Now only paper hung on the wall.
Showing you did it, that you answered the call.
Thoughts come back, as you sit at rest.
When once, yes once, you were the best of the best.

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