Just Another Sad Story

Thirty years he gave to his countrie’s flag

The awards and honors lined his wall

Bent and tired were his weary footsteps

That echoed down that empty hall

He could have skipped out and easily ran

Yet he learned young to stand as a man

The last box has been taped and labeled

His truck will go back to the dealership

The dreams and plans made so long ago

Now a day at the doc’s is his only trip

A small apartment where no children play

His pension, the bills, can barely pay

He feels the weight of failure pressing down

Eyes that once would adore now seem to abhor

Blame is shifted to lay before his aching feet

Eyes mist as one last time he locks his door

In youth he stood so proud before the flag

Now through the mud his name they drag

Now along the waterfront the takes a stroll

Dreams the dream he had of growing old

As the ocean calls him to an early grave

And he turns up his collar to an inner cold

He’ s not given up the fight but he’s losing ground

As the Last Post seems to echoe all around…