Honoring those who served. |
Sacrifices He sees the face reflected in the mirror in the light - the passage of the years written in lines and hair, now white. 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. For those who lay in Flanders field he knows he owes a debt. His memories cannot be healed; his eyes tear with regret. He starts to turn, a final sigh, his feelings strong 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 entry for the June/July round of "Rebel Poetry Contest" Prompt: 2 - Sebastian's Voodoo Line Count: 36 |