His shoulders stoop a little now, he doesn't stand as straight. (Form: End Rhyme)
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Once a Soldier ... His shoulders stoop a little now, he doesn't stand as straight. The hair is graying at his brow and thinning on his pate. The uniform he proudly wore still fits – though a bit tight. A dusty box within a drawer holds medals that shine bright. He slides the jacket on and smiles; the image that he sees: a young man unlined by life's trials lives in his memories. He hears a band play in his mind, a Souza-like refrain. He searches in the cheering crowd; she's waving at the train. The years he spent across the sea are now just a blur. In England, France, and Germany his strength was found in her. He thinks of comrades he has known whose names rest on a plaque. He wonders where the time has flown and how he made it back. He turns away, a final sigh, his feelings fade inside. He looks the soldier in the eye and sees a glint of pride. He salutes the soldier that he sees, a tribute well deserved for those who're only memories; for those that proudly served. An September entry for "HONORING OUR VETERANS " pate – the crown or top of the head. |