And, you know, he's never told me,
I've asked time and time again;
I do know he has some medals,
In velvet cases in his den.
He used to get them out
each year,
When he donned his uniform;
Parades would be held on
holidays,
And Veterans would perform.
"That's my Dad," I'd point out,
As he marched proudly down the street;
His old unit reunited,
Those old guys never missed a beat.
But I wonder how he
felt and thought,
When, still a boy, he went to
war,
Was it just a new adventure?
Did he know what the fight was
for?
He gave up his days at college,
Instead of pigskins, he had guns;
He heard no cheers for touchdowns,
Just, "Thank God, they're on the run!"
When I was just a
little kid,
Sometimes Dad screamed out at
night;
Mom would say, "Go back to
bed,
War dreams give your Dad a
fright."
My Uncle Ned was killed in France,
That was Dad's youngest brother;
Dad wouldn't talk about him much,
What I knew ... I learned from Mother.
That was the war, they
said,
To end all future wars;
How many have we had since
then?
I wonder ... any more?
My Dad's a gentle, quiet man,
Who won't discuss his fears or pains;
He fought for those unborn, as yet,
To insure this land remains.
There is no proper way
to thank him,
That will have to come from
God above;
But I can, at least, extend my
hand,
In sincere respect and love.
~ Virginia Ellis ~
Copyright
1999