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Honor Flight
April 22, 2016
My grandfather traded his tattered play clothes for a uniform at 17.
Dressed with his American pride
he stood tall.
Friends lives, fragile as glass, run head on into battle.
Bottles raise to his lips to forget the past.
Memories still vivid to this day.
Honor never given until now.
The flight was the welcome home that he never had.
A marching band played as veterans poured through the gate.
Their souls light as feathers.
Family members cheering, crying, hugging.
He was honored that day.
He was happy to be himself.
His now crippled body hangs low,
but his pride stands tall.
© Steven W., Highland Village, TX
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