My Hero

My hero is not the sort 

I've read of in the books,

But a frail man in a wheelchair

Who's giving me the looks.

Knees shot up,

Bayonet in the arm,

Shrapnel in the head.

He says,

"I've got a bronze star,

a silver star,

for letting people shoot at me."

I also know he has three purple hearts

and 173 are dead.

My hero is the sort

I've read of in the books,

But now he's old and forgotten

His courage never waning.