My fighting days were over now, and, I had given all. But, some had given more than me, their names are on a wall. I am now, well up in years, a soldier old and worn. I could only sit and pray, as, I watched Desert Storm. So proud of our boys over there, who stand for what is right.
Freedom is the battle cry, the reason why they fight.
Young soldiers fight for liberty, protecting freedom's bliss. Old soldiers dream of bygone days, while, fighting loneliness. Forgotten in some V.A. home, and all my friends, have died. I never ask for anything, just wanted to live free. But, if you write this story, there are many just like me.