George In Black And White Poem by Hubert Wilson

Legs don't work too well anymore.
Just another casualty of long ago war.
Memory is sometimes too good.
Things would like to forget if only I could.

Again, battling these headaches.
Then, start the shakes.
Waking up at night in a sweat.
Another endless price of being a vet.

Most of my fellow vets are dead.
Others barely hangin' on by a fraying thread.
Promised healthcare never really there.
Only more rejection form letters at which to swear.

Waking on a long past dawn.
Found my family simply gone.
Tried the bottle - then prayer.
Both led to more confusion and despair.

Of course, to make matters worse
Is that fool on TV who makes it more perverse.
With merely my medals as faithful company in my dingy hotel room,
My old portable black and white set makes me fume!

He struts and boasts,
But what bothers me the most?
Year after year in seeming utter glee -
He wants to make more just like me!

There's strong, and then there's Army strong - and then there's the army of the forgotten! Remembering Sgt. Joe Spoon