There's a footlocker in the attic,
Old uniforms packed in mothballs,
And memories from so long ago,
When he answered his country's call.



Young and fresh, he left his home,
To serve his Uncle Sam.
He learned to fight for freedom,
And the boy became a man.



He may have served here in the states,
Or been sent to some far-away hell,
Either way, he was proud to serve,
This country he loves so well.



He served with pride, and honor,
And with personal sacrifice,
To defend the way of freedom,
He willingly paid the price.



He's older now, has gained some weight
He's not quite so straight and tall,
Those old uniforms don't fit anymore,
But he still remembers it all.



He joins the V.F.W. or the Legion,
He's an American veteran,
And if his country ever needs him,
He'll proudly serve again.

© 2015 by Kathryn Brandon. All rights reserved.
This poem is my own original work, and may not
be copied or used in any way without permission.