These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

He Lived to Tell the Tale

Granddaddy took the butt of a gun
upon his forehead bare,
and somehow lived to tell the tale,
a metal disc placed there.

Suspicious of a covered bridge,
Pap slipped down 'neath his horse.
The swishing of machetes affirmed
he chose the sanest course.

Pap rode up San Juan Hill, he said
with Teddy in the lead.
They won the victory that day.
He lived to tell the deed.

So many years ago he lived.
I never got to meet
my granddaddy of told exploits,
to sit down at his feet.

I just have Dad's accounts to tell.
No facts can I confirm.
His dates of life are close I know,
like one great river's berm.

Granddaddy died some twenty years
before I came to Earth.
I have just pictures and Dad's words,
recalling his great worth.

Whatever way he served and fought
is truly good by me.
He was a stone in that great wall
we call Sweet Liberty.

by Jay O’Toole
on November 29th, 2024
Lines: 28