My grandfather was a farmer; his hands were hard and cracked
His words were soft and careful built from farming fact
The outside world was foreign, until it came to call
Taxation and enlistment for the betterment of all
He sent three boys for duty, in the second world war
All were shot and injured with nightmares from the gore
One died shortly after, from the haunting cast within
One spent years recovering, justifying the acts of sin
The glory of the victory, still in the news today
And the horrors of reality, in our minds to stay
My grandfather paid his taxes and went into withdrawal
Then he just kept on farming, for the betterment of all
Family Emotional History
For The Betterment Of All
Published by Family Friend Poems June 27, 2024 with permission of the Author.
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