The Greatest Reward
The wind and the rain keep people away,
Like trees on the walk, their spirits sway.
No desire for the bitter cold,
They won't hold; not bold,
There's no point to it, or so I am told.
But sitting there on a cold park bench,
A timid old man who's 'fresh' from the trench.
Although his body tends to fold,
It doesn't feel cold; or old,
It simply yearns for the life he sold.
The man was always aware of emotion's great beauty,
Alas, he surrendered it all to do his patriotic duty.
His spirit was broken by the war,
Across broken floor; to the closing door,
Always believing what he was fighting for.
He returned a hero, but he never knew,
He would become one of the last brave few.
Regret in his heart came to the fore,
The pain it bore; a hole it tore,
Condemned to be alone for evermore.
So when he sits and thinks of all he has known,
He thinks of the life that he may own,
When he may rest beyond the stars,
His spirit living beyond mortal bars,
With a soul much like his own,
The greatest love he has ever known.
(Footnote: Sorry for the hiatus. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your comments and apologise for not responding. I have very little time at the moment so it has been write and upload, write and upload. Hopefully this policy will soon change. Until that time please continue commenting and I appreciate constructive critiscism. Thank you.)