the old man talks
about his time in war
the battles that were waged
on a far away shore
you sit and you listen
to all you've heard before
the price that he paid
in a place he abhorred
he lights a fresh smoke
and you notice his shake
from atrocities seen
and all his heartaches
still, you sit there in silence
not a sound do you make
till he's done with his stories
that makes his soul quake
for all that he lost
what should have been golden
no longer the boy
that innocence stolen
it flows from his lips
like the creek that is swollen
a story he still tells
with fervent emotion
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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