He was a P.O.W. of World War 11.
He was a fighter pilot that crash landed.
Landing on the enemy's territory, too be taken prisoner.
Forced to live in the enemy's crowded barracks; a prisoner's stay.
Forced to eat potato rations; a prisoner's wage.
Forced to lose ninety pounds; a prisoner's labor.
He quietly sits back waiting for sweet freedom's day.
Imprisoned by fate, that soon became; one of America's Heroes.
Now, he lives with his wife, with uncovered windows.
So, he'll never be taken prisoner.
Imprisoned in life's insecurities,
A victim of war crimes, of Germany,
Feeling the love of America's charities,
He's been able to live a nice lifestyle.
In the American Dream,
Where the hero's light beams.
Now he's laid to rest in peace, at Arlington Cemetery, with other American Heroes.
Patricia Kelley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/p-o-w-world-war-11/
