Faye Sizemore


He is wrinkled and his hair is white as snow
Eighty plus years he has seen come and go
A true southern gentleman, not the kind for show
Always shook your hand like he’d never let go
He likes to talk and has a lot to say
Talk goes from life to funerals gone before
And through the forties and the big war

He said ‘now I’m headed toward December
And when the day does come I do die
I hope my obituary does remember
To include I was awarded a Bronze Star
I’d like it known when I’ve gone on
that I was proud of what we done
away across the ocean over there
World War Two is long, long gone
It was just in our orders there to roam
though lots of us never did come home’

He straightens his shoulders
as remembering with a sigh
all those who had said goodbyes
and I glimpse in his sharp clear eyes
just like a glitter of precious gold,
the steel still in this old warrior’s soul

Author’s Note: Manning McWhorter is still with us, and in his own words, “…all a vet wants, after all, is to be remembered’