The old man stood before the crowd,
He was frail and weak.
He was so scared to be standing there,
That he could barely speak.
They invited him to come and talk,
And even through his fear,
He wanted to tell about his life,
And things that he held dear.
He served his country long ago,
In wars across the sea,
And even though the years had passed,
Nightmares wouldn't let him be.
Many that he considered friends,
Still lay on foreign lands.
He told about watching as they fell,
And holding them in his hands.
He told the crowd about his pain,
From the very start,
About the suffering he had seen,
That still held hold his heart.
When his story came to an end,
He limped as he sat down,
The tears were seen throughout the room,
A dry eye could not be found.
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Author:
lasergraph (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2017 07:39
- Comment from author about the poem: Not much to say about this, I know a few guys just like this one.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments5
There are many like this who still suffer through what they went through in their past.
A fine write L.
The madness and sadness and futility of war! Well written account, lg!
Very emotive - great read Lasergraft
Well written and expressed
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