Pamela Gayle Smith

OUR TRUE COLORS
(Dedicated to All Who Have Served)

Today I made a trip,
to the clinic of our local VA,
where America’s true colors,
are proudly on display.

I’m not speaking of the colors
of our Flag’s red, white and blue;
I’m speaking of the soldiers
who have fought for me and you.

There were men of all ages,
from World War One just a few;
most were from the “war to end all wars”,
“the big one”, World War Two.

From our UN participation,
Korea, Vietnam and Desert Storm;
from Joint Police Actions,
keeping people safe from harm.

Though they are in wheel chairs,
on crutches or with canes,
missing an arm, leg or eye,
their loyalty still remains.

They are from well know divisions,
Paratroopers from Fort Campbell,
Fort Hood Texas, the tank drivers,
other units all known well.

They were Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines,
all with medical problems, waiting to be seen;
discussing America’s latest problems,
over coffee in the crowded canteen.

Then a white haired man rose up,
his back bent with age,
his voice shook, his hand trembled,
his eyes told of his rage.

He said “I’m an old man,
in years I’m eighty-five,
I guess by most standards,
I’m lucky to be alive.”

“I was a paratrooper,
in World War Two,
I’d go again,
how about you?”

“For this is my country,
many have died to keep her free,
my Father, my Son, my Best Friend,
I will not forsake their memory.”

The room was quiet,
as he sat down,
in that large room,
not one dry eye could be found.

For they all had a similar story,
which, one by one they started to tell,
This room full of American Veterans,
made my heart swell.

Watching these American Vet’s,
their arms around both young and old,
from World War One to current time,
my patriotism, grew one hundred fold.

Now I know what Patriotism really means,
it’s not just “apple pie, Mom and the girl next door”;
it’s a feeling, welling up from your soul,
way down deep, at your very core.

It’s a catch in your throat when “America” is sung,
tears in your eyes when Veterans parade by,
standing straight, when reciting the “Pledge”,
and a bursting heart when “Old Glory” does fly.

©Copyright September 25, 2001 by Pamela Gayle Smith