You Might Not Call Him A Hero Poem by Red Leg

You Might Not Call Him A Hero



Driving to pick him up
As I pull in
I cannot find him
Amidst all of the camouflaged faces
The uniforms
I cannot make out names or rank
Hair color or skin
But in the eyes of all
I see bravery, courage, strength

There is mine! !
He is dirty, covered in sand and paint
His uniform no longer perfectly pressed
His boots have lost their shine
But in his eyes a sparkle

At last! To hold him, to have his lips on mine
It seems years since we said goodbye
Yet nothing has changed
My love for him unwavering
You might not call him a hero
With dirt on his hands
Paint on his face
A gun in his hands
But, he is my world
To me he is all that is right
You might not call him a hero
But to me he is

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