Chester the jester,
My favorite guard!
Stuck in his twenties, but
Twice over the hill,
Recalls peace-time war stories,
While taking his pills.
Tells me all his tall tales  
Up ‘till wife number one
And the other loves that failed.

This is how abuse looks:
Elderly, jovial
Shirt tucked and boots shined,
Rare catches of
Old scratches on new glasses,
Liver spots and laughing lines.

Glassy eyes blinking away  
Dust from antique memories;
Sepia-toned ponderings,
Less like days of summer
More depression-era dust bowl;
The ever-hope for May.

Chester the Jester,
Old of bone
Young of heart,
Keeps the laughter going
To smooth your broken parts.