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Reposting on this forum at the badgering of Mr.Bobitt... 
This poem was inspired by a particular scene during the Trooping of Colours parade on 31 May, 2003.
Perhaps His Final Parade
You may think him as just an old man,
Frail and weak, crippled, needing a walker to merely walk.
If you pass him on a street when the sun is shining
You may think he‘s just an old man nearing end of his life.
Well, he showed up at the parade today,
Cladded in formal dress, wearing a glengarry,
Still had his steel walker on this rainy day,
But he wanted to be part of his regiment‘s parade.
He was there the entire parade,
Letting the raindrops hit his face,
Watching the young soldiers honour his regiment,
His unit he fought with something sixty years ago for freedom.
He could have stayed in his seat
When the Old Guard was called up for a March Past by the reviewing stands,
Because he was very frail and walking was hard work for him,
But he wanted to be in the parade one last time, maybe.
The drums beat, the bagpipes sang,
The old veteran slowly marched with the rest of the Old Guard.
Must have been really hard for him, but he never missed a step,
Keeping up all the way across the rainy football field, he never quit.
Maybe because he had his pride, his dignity.
Maybe because he just had to be part of the parade one last time,
Just had to be part of the parade that may be his last chance.
I think it‘s because of the old veteran‘s warrior‘s spirit.
Once a soldier, always a soldier.
He watched his friends die, suffered the horrors of war.
He sacrificed a great part of himself for freedom‘s cause.
He is a warrior.
As a young soldier watching the old veteran
March across the rainy football field in his walker,
How else can I feel,
Except to admire an old warrior‘s spirit?
This poem was inspired by a particular scene during the Trooping of Colours parade on 31 May, 2003.
Perhaps His Final Parade
You may think him as just an old man,
Frail and weak, crippled, needing a walker to merely walk.
If you pass him on a street when the sun is shining
You may think he‘s just an old man nearing end of his life.
Well, he showed up at the parade today,
Cladded in formal dress, wearing a glengarry,
Still had his steel walker on this rainy day,
But he wanted to be part of his regiment‘s parade.
He was there the entire parade,
Letting the raindrops hit his face,
Watching the young soldiers honour his regiment,
His unit he fought with something sixty years ago for freedom.
He could have stayed in his seat
When the Old Guard was called up for a March Past by the reviewing stands,
Because he was very frail and walking was hard work for him,
But he wanted to be in the parade one last time, maybe.
The drums beat, the bagpipes sang,
The old veteran slowly marched with the rest of the Old Guard.
Must have been really hard for him, but he never missed a step,
Keeping up all the way across the rainy football field, he never quit.
Maybe because he had his pride, his dignity.
Maybe because he just had to be part of the parade one last time,
Just had to be part of the parade that may be his last chance.
I think it‘s because of the old veteran‘s warrior‘s spirit.
Once a soldier, always a soldier.
He watched his friends die, suffered the horrors of war.
He sacrificed a great part of himself for freedom‘s cause.
He is a warrior.
As a young soldier watching the old veteran
March across the rainy football field in his walker,
How else can I feel,
Except to admire an old warrior‘s spirit?
