That Man in Uniform

This fun little poem might give you some insights into someone I love so much…

 That Man in Uniform
 In his uniform, he stands fit & thin.
 If you look real hard, you can see his grin. 
 He has taken form, shaped by the norm. 
 His spine tail to tip, he keeps straight & tall. 
 His mind is aligned, his strength will not fall. 
 He has studied & trained, he’s ready to sail. 
 His shoes wink at you, his work is worthy. 
 The waxy luster a polished clue 
 about all he’ll do, with pride & no bluster. 
 His belt buckle shines, sparkles at your eye. 
 He’s a sharp diamond, that’s truth & no lie. 
 A stone that will not give a sigh or a cry. 
 His hair’s cut so short, gives you the idea 
 that he finds his way each & every day
 from many a snare, with greatest of care. 
 His pant leg creases, & the shirt sleeves too
 shout out about order, that never ceases. 
 oh, yes, & the need, liberty releases. 
 The ribbon & ore, medals across chest, 
 they always attest, he lined up abreast. 
 His foot to pedal, his legs toward shore. 
 That man, a sailor guy, 17 enlisted 
 a young seaman clean, of the yes-sir clan, 
 dressed in navy & white, oh my! 
 Rose up in the ranks, serving for 30+, 
 a true commander that man never shrank. 
 I dare say with glee, That Man, That Man, 
 He is My Father.  

This poem is part of an online collection I call All the Shapes of Joy.

One Reply to “That Man in Uniform”

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