Through his aging, once jet-black beard
Came the movement of his chapped lips
Which drew out the beating of war drums
Sad war drums
Like an army that had been defeated
But kept marching in rhythm, regardless
His deep brown eyes peaked out through his
Thick rimmed, over-worn glasses
And within his words I was sure I could hear
The breaking of his heart
'Do you understand how it makes me feel
To know she has to be drunk in order to tolerate me? '
My brother and I looked over at each other;
Spitting images of this once valiant man sitting before us
In his eight year old, brand new chair
And as he began to rise
He put his hands on each of our shoulders in such a gentle manner
It surprised me, to think of such a large man
Capable of such a soft touch
His words began to rise like the beating of the other army
The one that had claimed victory
And he said 'I love you boys' and walked off
To find his bed and lie beside his beloved wife
A thought-provoking and flowing ode - I like this style of writing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
touching! well expressed