The Old Warrior, dode
(dode: Norwegian...died)
For thirty days his body fought
bribes many, temptations spurned
the warrior had simply chosen
his final act of courage
The end came in the night.
The gentle hand that led him forth
to lands where soldiers dwell
left his mask of death…at peace
Buried with honors, the guns did sound.
Respects were paid, off sped the lives
Then the final bookend of life did come
neatly printed and parchment too
Computers require their labels neat.
Dementia, progressive, reason given
Those that knew, knew this not true
for the old warrior had chosen…
His final act of courage.
poem by C.H. Sund
Added by Poetry Lover
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