His Medal

Many horrors you had endured and seen
Many faces had haunted your dreams
You cheered as your enemies littered the ground
You cried as your brothers fell to the ground

When it was over you came back home
Some were left with memories to face alone
Some found themselves in the company of friends
As their crosses cast shadows across the land

It's not just the coloured ribbons
Which are always truthful indicators
Of my grandpa who fought the best

Nor do the gold stripes upon the arm
Always tell the story
When he saw the action
Or fought his way to glory

With my hand upon his medal
With tears streaming down my face
I feel the pride and respect
My reverence for a soldier
For my grandpa