In the fog of time, he now
struggle to clear his aging mind.
Memories that flicker and fade
of days by gone, images, faces,
name of jungle places that have
become scattered by the winds
of time and seems to no longer
matter or even rhyme.
As his aging memory fades, and
yesterday is long gone and tomorrow
quickly becomes yesterday's skeleton.
Now he realize that each new day is a
gift from God.
He's nearing his eighties and the wars
he fought and the faces of the young
men he once knew are fading into the
abyss of obscurity.
But, he still looks at the discolored
pictures, through the tears of his aging
eyes as he shows his great grand son
and say; “Son, that me…that me,
back in Korea and Vietnam…you see!”
Few remember and fewer yet care
about wars long past, but he still
post Old Glory out side of his home
every morning as his first daily task.
He still stands for the playing of
the American Anthem and proudly
salutes the passing of the Red, White
and Blue.
He is still a solider and will always be
until the day he stands that last guardmout
and taps is played in his honor, well
deserved and long overdue...
"Welcome Home!"
