He fled the faces of his brood --
They cut his soul with edges sharp
From lack of food.
And, although their mouths
Voiced no complaint,
The steady, unaccusing stare
Was so much more than he could bear --
This hero of two foreign wars.
He cowers now in alleyways
(And drinks his courage from a jar)
Beneath a far, unjudging star.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore