How to spot an older soldier,
When he is not in greens,
Is that he may be naturally bolder,
In many of the civilian scenes.

First of all is the way he talks,
And the proudness in his voice,
And the conviction in the way he walks,
His composure is not a choice.

He does not use a finger to point,
But his whole hand to indicate,
As if it is seized at the joint,
A common usage in the syndicate.

His hair sides to his lower lobes,
As if to show his worth,
In his tattered ironed old mans clothes,
As if he’s had them since birth.

In the corner of the local bar,
Supping with his hard earned few,
Reminiscing of older times afar,
And all the hardships they’ve been through.

There is always that glint in his eyes,
As if he knows the mystery,
That no matter of all the goodbyes,
They will meet in the annals of history.