Old soldiers never dies
Old Soldiers Never Dies.
A neighbour of mine used to be a sergeant in the army,
In his living room he had a big picture of himself,
In full uniform that had many ribbons and medals on.
He served in many countries, Germany, Singapore and
so on, not on the frontline, but as head of the army’s
motor-pool. Then a day the military let him go, the army
is no place for old men, and the best years of his life
was behind him. He liked tinkering with cars, once he
repaired mine, barking orders what screwdriver he wanted,
shook his head over my utter incompetence.
It was a day in October, when the weather was hanging
about, like a soldier who hasn’t got his orders, he went
to bed for his afternoon nap, when his wife brought him
tea at five, he had gone to the military parade in the sky.
Comments about this poem (Old soldiers never dies by oskar hansen )
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