Faye Sizemore

JIM

A war veteran… once an old friend…
on a cold Christmas morning… met his end…
Shunned by a family whose patience he had worn thin…
he lived alone… keeping his memories only to him
A sad telephone call… during the Christmas meal
a halting voice… portraying how the caller did feel
“It’s all over with Jim…
This morning I found him
On the closed in porch he did bide
A half empty bottle of Black Velvet
… sittin’ by his side
Sightless eyes… staring at the door
Seeing no more memories of war
In his right hand… between his fingers
A Marlboro cigarette…
burned to the filter lies’’
… Burned out
like the pain in his eyes
There will be no more strife for him
Merry Christmas… and peace, Jim