Doctor Jones

Doc Jones, the professor with the stern face,

Teaching code and circuits, keeping steady pace.

Great Plains halls echo his firm command,

A Marine-built man with a steady hand.

'Nam vet scars hidden deep in his tone,

Radio man vibes, static in his bones.

Chalkboard battles, syntax on attack,

But some nights his mind drifts, jungle pulls him back.

Doc Jones, the tech sage, mind full of sparks,

A warrior's heart, but the past leaves marks.

In '96 he taught with a Marine's grit,

But shadows of war still wouldn’t quit.

Binary digits mix with memories that sting,

Echoes of choppers and the jungle's ring.

He’d pause mid-lesson, a faraway gaze,

Students silent, feeling his haunted maze.

Teaching kids tech, building futures anew,

But behind his eyes, old battles still brew.

Marine to mentor, he wore every scar,

Great Plains vo-tech’s brightest star.

The static hums, his radio calls replay,

A jungle of wires where memories stray.

Teaching was his outpost, his battle plan,

Turning code to freedom for every young man.