Old Tom

Old Tom was wrinkled
His face full of care
A military blazer 
He'd always wear

Tom was a fighter
He'd boxed in the ring
He had gone to war
He'd fought for his King

His medals with pride 
He always wore
In the pub of an evening
He'd lay down the law

Every November
He went on parade
He remembered his comrades
As a green wreath he laid

He talked about them
With a tear in his eye
Though he held it all back
He'd not openly cry

But last November he wasn't there
In the pub where he sat just an empty chair
So we will hear his stories no more
Of the battles he fought in the great war

Though he was always cadging a drink
We'll miss that stubborn old fellow I think
Though his outside was hard he was soft inside
And his chair has stayed empty
Since the day that he died
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Cloyd Avatar
March 3, 2021 at 10:42 AM
I love how your poetry flow and rhyme, and how you immortalize people within them. I can picture Old Tim on his bar stool with his embedded wrinkles/ with medals on his blazer laying down the law, and remembering his comrades in arms. Do you have a Book? If not, you should!!!
Fenn Avatar
March 3, 2021 at 10:26 AM
What a loving tribute to a veteran!
Krutsinger Avatar
February 28, 2018 at 8:49 AM
This poem was fun to read; I loved the rhymes, and it had a sweet, truly thoughtful ending.
Blanca Avatar
February 18, 2018 at 4:51 PM
Soldiers never die, they just fade away. Nice write Denis
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