I was called to a bedside,
There lay a giant of a man.
Age one hundred and five,
I wonder how he survived.
Saying he was leaving today,
He wanted to go his way.
Comrades, Family, and friends,
They had long since gone.
We supported him now all alone,
While living in our nursing home.
He would tell stories of the war,
Horrors he lived to deplore.
Charging out from a trench,
Face to face in the stench.
Fear around almost smelt,
His faith inside began to melt.
These haunting memories,
He would carry to the end.
Now as I stood by his bed,
Comfort was all I could lend.
Honoured to be with him that day,
I held his hand as he slipped away.
Touching his brow I said goodbye,
Ending this shift tear in my eye.