"Where'd you get those scars?"
As a child I would say.
"They came from shells and shrapnel,"
He'd reply, "It all began on D-Day."
And as I grew, our conversations of war
Began to grow as well.
He explained of being a paratrooper
And the day they had jumped into hell.
He never glorified the war,
Too many killed,
Literally and spiritually torn apart.
He gave me the small Bible he carried with him,
He had thrown away his two Purple Hearts.
He said they fought for freedom.
A right no one should be denied.
And I promised him, as he promised them,
Never to forget those who had fought and died.
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