A PROFOUND HERO
The knocks of footsteps down the stairs
Kept me assume someone to tell me fairs.
Came a faded timeworn with an armed wooden leg;
Limping unsteady fragile and weak.
Never accepted an arm,
Though his family left him disarmed!
Assumed as rude and unpleasant to many;
But it doesn’t mattered him any.
Yet there was something. . .
Something that was concealed to tell;
Years back his life was automation
Disguised in dark cloak to serve the nation!
This once proud soldier
With a wooden armed leg
Was a remnant of a cruel war
Fighting for those who couldn’t;
But was left forlorn with no glory.
Yet wasn’t he dejected,
Still holding his bravery
Cherishing his scars within!
His eyes gleaming the sky above
Seeking his lost comrades
Wondering if he could get back
With his dark cloak all again!
(I sincerely dedicate and acknowledge this very first poem of mine to a very brave retired soldier whom I met at a sanatorium when I was 14. Hardly could I remember his name but still he serves to be one of my best inspirations. )
-Oviyafantasy
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