Once a Soldier ...

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.