My Father the Soldier

You were a husband a father
An uncle, a friend to some
A mother’s son, a Father’s man
But a soldier you’d become

You donned the green uniform
Squared away your West Nova suit
Picked up you rifle and helmet
Then off to old Italy’s boot

You bravely fought in the trenches
Where it was be killed or kill
You watched your friends falling
To capture each valley and hill

Then when the war was all over
You came home tired and beat
No job and not much future
Still you would not cede to defeat

You raised nine kids to be adults
Each proud of their Dad
The soldier who said so little
Yet sometimes looked so sad

Today the bugles will play taps
A moment of silence to share
I’ll pay my respects to your gravesite
Knowing you are forever near…