Ben sat,
beside himself.

With all those worries,
you have at his age.

Not really knowing,
if his parents were really his own.

He looked around the old house,
which seamed to give him some comfort.

But then he started to remember,
that terrible day, when brother Tom came home form war.

Tom appeared at the door,
like a ghostly shadow.

Ben knew Tom was not the same,
as Tom stagger in, and slurred at him...

You have grown... and had to help him in to the kitchen.
As they got there...Tom almost shouted I am going to be sick.

And threw up in the kitchen sink, then fell to the flour, mumbling water Ben.
Ben took what seamed like the limp tap, in his hands, pour water into a glass.

Kneeling next to Tom, to give him the water, he remembered what Tom was.
It is not what I am seeing.

Thank you Ben.
You are welcome Tom.

No Ben!
Call me Tommy Gun.