The Old Warrior's Day
When his six bucks are gone,
His belly warm with beer,
Comes his time of day,
The time he always does fear...
It's off to nowhereland,
His dank basement apartment,
No lovely suburban home,
This is what life deemed is his compartment
Nineteen inch T.V.,
Three beers in the "fridge",
A half a bar of cheddar,
Two pizza slices,
An annoying head buzzing midge...
He sits on the edge of his bed,
Which also is his couch,
In this one room nightmare,
His shoulders visibly slouch
Of one thing, he is grateful,
That his wife never saw him such,
He has few blessings to count,
He just doesn't have that much...
But things interest him not,
He lives deep within the past,
And of all the things he's got,
The one most treasured thing,
A picture of his wife and him...
To those old memories he does still cling...
Yes, this "Old Warrior" still fights his war,
Not against some international crime,
This old warrior's battle,
Is against the tides of time.
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