At 90 he seemed just an old white-haired guy
An elderly veteran you'd simply walk by.
His wounds from the war had taken a toll,
But a warrior's spirit still lived in his soul.
His faded blue eyes would still come alive
When he'd tell of how lucky he was to survive.
He'd talk of his buddies in graves far away,
And remembered each name until his dying day.
He was badly wounded, not once but twice,
But always said freedom was well worth the price.
Though he barely could stand in his final years,
The National Anthem still brought him to tears.
His pride in his country was so resolute,
That he'd rise from his wheelchair and sharply salute.
He's gone now and I often visit his grave
And pause to reflect on all he fought to save.
And prayerfully thank him for helping us be
A country that's truly the land of the free.