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UNSUNG HEROES
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2003 Poetry The rocking chair is swinging
in measured pace
the soul residing within is latent,
and the spirit is weeping.
The body is fading its russet color
and the bone has become
even more conspicuous.
Time has fraught the fortitude,
boldness and ingenuity
of a man who had been once
the ace of front line.
But who would remember that?
The world has turned ingratitude.
What’s left are shattered bits and pieces
of hope from a drained well of luck.
Today was yesterday’s struggle.
Unfettered future? It seems
But where is peace and hope
after all these years?
