The cold winds blow in silent fields.. Where death hangs low over fallen souls.. Where will the stooped men dig.. all the needed holes.. Well worn shovels.. Bloodied hands.. Aching backs.. The ground claims them all lovingly back.. Quietly covering in time.. all the muddy tracks.. The barest facts left to be discovered.. That war and death.. had ever came to rest.. Inside these peacful fields..
Thanks everyone...this one is diferent than I usually write...debated on posting it or not..So your words are very reassuring to me..Thanks again. Plus can anyone tell me why when I get an e-mail saying a certain person replyed on my poem but then when I look it didn't show up?
Rex Allen McCoy
Sippin a Timmy's in London
LOL at Rex....I was starting to wonder if I was being erased..lol..Thanks to you all for helping me out I am not a real bright when it comes to problems with my unit....thats what my sons for. And he's at school..lol.