There it is again—the low rumble of a fighter jet.
Oh, wait… it’s just a bimba.
But every time, we stop.
Because they sound the same.
One carries a toddler, carefree and small,
The other, a soldier who left that behind.
Both speeding forward to somewhere unknown,
With a roar that fills the air.
One smiles wide, maybe even laughs,
The other is foc…
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