As his dentures upper plate shifted in his mouth <br />His lisp became more obvious and pronounced <br />Even his name became harder for his tongue to speak <br />And God forbid he had to tell you where he lived <br />All those sixes and zeros almost whistled their way loose <br />Little children would whisper to their mommy’s ear with fingers <br />pointing out his scars and his apparent loss of a pound of flesh <br />There are no disguises such a man can wear to cover his wounds <br />So one must either wear them with pride or hide them in disgrace <br />Because no leper colonies exist in modern western civilization <br />Except those protective dark corridors of a veteran’s institution <br />And wounds like his are definitely capable of inducing horror <br />In the hearts and minds of both adults and little children <br />When seen up close like the shrapnel of any improvised explosive device... <br />As his dentures upper plate shifted in his mouth <br />He proudly stated his name for the crowd <br />Then turned and stood in uniform at attention <br />Saluting his flag and his country’s fallen <br />With the only three fingers he had left to his name… <br /> <br />2007 © T Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-his-heroes-are-dead-in-loving-memory-of-those-brave-souls/
