Epitaph

Epitaph



Long of tooth and thin of skin,
shameful of the state I'm in,
stiff of knee and short of breath,
marching down the road to death

once a soldier, now a ghost
invisible at best, to most
penning poems that few will read
still I write, and still I bleed

daily medications steal
the passion that I used to feel
making me but half a man
sharing love as best I can

the once proud nation of my birth
has shed its morals with its worth
and few children born today
know of God, or how to pray

and though my life is nearly done
I have no more regrets save one
knowing I can never be
but just a fading memory


C. Lon R. Bruso