South Carolina, USA
Each careful touch with pauses placed
from heartfelt thoughts of lives erased.
As Taps are blown the bugle’s song
a tear appears from weak, from strong.
A tear of sadness, tear of loss
Tear of remembrance, of life’s cost.
Quiver of cheek, a sniffle dried
for all that gave, for all that died.
Many departed to not return
from lands of terror, bodies burned.
From cliff side graves of shallow fill
and hurried prayers, of those who kill.
They came to free, they came to save.
From birth of morn to waiting grave.
They gave a soul, that I might leave
a thought, a hope, a moment’s grieve.
The beaches bled, the volleys flew
from cannon red, from snipers too.
And as the sun did set the land
they fought, they fought...a gallant stand.
A flag unfurled across deep seas
in honor of life’s liberties.
Where many fell, as others cried
American born, filled with our pride.
As nations strong remember them,
a bugle plays a warrior’s hymn
and to the graves of those in rest
I give my heart, my soul, my best.