At The Wall

He is here at the wall,  
his comical smirk painted on his face.  
Here he is with his storybook eyes, and  
the metal tags hanging from his neck.  
Not yet twenty-two.  
Here he is at the wall,  
looking in deep.  
Here he is a man, aged by years.  
Enjoying a large, happy family.
Here he stands.
Here at this glassy wall,  
a mirror into the past.  
The man that looks back;  
his images from many years ago.  
Him but not really him,  
the face that looks back is not his but the face of another.  
Someone with whom he spent his life, inseparable.  
Here they stand at the wall,  
two brothers separated by war.