No different to the rest at the very start,
The proud soldier stood, brave of heart,
Bulletproof he felt, knowing it wasnt the case,
No fear or worry shown, on his soldiers face.

Across the water, he sees the end of life,
Dissapeared a mom, a daughter, a wife,
Throws the image away, to the back of his mind,
Deep deep away, hopefully never to find.

Another place, happier times, seeking food not blood,
Not soldiering , not combat, but still feeling good,
He’s here again, and death he will reap,
Sending innocents into, eternal sleep.

The same things seen, just different places,
Same people gone, just different faces,
Grim reality, comes to the door,
Cold, hard with no concience, this is war.

A million years later, sits at home on his bed,
The picutres come back, to the front of his head,
Nothings changed, the pictures, as clear as day,
He thought he had hidden them a million miles away.

Once fit, strong and fast, he carries some scars,
Instead of running everywhere, he relies now on cars,
Not as bad as some, so he can’t complain,
It’s aches and twinges, not so much, pain.

His body is different, he carries more weight,
The standards the same, likes not to be late,
It’s hard to accept, that he cant run that mile,
So slow in the mornings, with a slow grimaced smile.

The same inside, he could run for ever,
Not thinking he would slow, not then, not ever,
He has to accept, with time comes the pain,
Of old injuries, from outside, outside in the rain.

But complain he can’t, it could be worse,
Came home in a landy, and not in a hearse,
His Life is good, for an “Older and Bolder”
It’s the life, of a once, “mark one” soldier.