Although his walk is crooked and limping,
His back is tall and straight, like a man who still holds pride
In the memory of a war long forgotten by the world.
Now he wears his dog tags under his shirt,
And they are silent against his once broad chest.
He quiets their once proud jingle
But he still walks tall
Replaced is his rifle for a walking cane
And although he leans into it for support through the pain,