Sacrifices

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