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Flags and Stones
Flags and stones lie row on row
In fields across this land.
Some on foreign loam or clay
Or Pacific island sand.
For freedom and for liberty
Their noble blood was shed.
How sad to see the mounds and stones
Of all the buried dead.
They show the place where bodies lie
That once stood in defense.
Young and old men, women too,
Freedom’s guardians.
A name is carved into the stone,
Along with date of birth.
Place of conflict, service branch,
And when they left this earth.
The Revolution, our Civil War,
World War’s One and Two.
Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf,
Afghanistan and Iraq too.
But, sailor’s wrapped in canvas shrouds,
Committed to the deep,
Have no flag or stone to show
Where they’ve gone to sleep.
On land or sea the bodies lie
Beneath the sod or waves.
Awaiting coming judgement day,
When all will leave their graves.
Cremation is the choice for some,
To ashes they are turned.
Cast upon some gentile breeze,
Or kept inside and urn.
Millions o’er the years gone by
Have shed their precious blood.
Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines,
Who’ve kept this land for us.
So as you see these flags and stones
In fields where you may walk.
Enjoy the sweetness of each breath,
Remember freedom’s cost.
© Ken B. Harper
20 November 2005
Flags and stones lie row on row
In fields across this land.
Some on foreign loam or clay
Or Pacific island sand.
For freedom and for liberty
Their noble blood was shed.
How sad to see the mounds and stones
Of all the buried dead.
They show the place where bodies lie
That once stood in defense.
Young and old men, women too,
Freedom’s guardians.
A name is carved into the stone,
Along with date of birth.
Place of conflict, service branch,
And when they left this earth.
The Revolution, our Civil War,
World War’s One and Two.
Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf,
Afghanistan and Iraq too.
But, sailor’s wrapped in canvas shrouds,
Committed to the deep,
Have no flag or stone to show
Where they’ve gone to sleep.
On land or sea the bodies lie
Beneath the sod or waves.
Awaiting coming judgement day,
When all will leave their graves.
Cremation is the choice for some,
To ashes they are turned.
Cast upon some gentile breeze,
Or kept inside and urn.
Millions o’er the years gone by
Have shed their precious blood.
Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines,
Who’ve kept this land for us.
So as you see these flags and stones
In fields where you may walk.
Enjoy the sweetness of each breath,
Remember freedom’s cost.
© Ken B. Harper
20 November 2005
Posted 10 y ago
Responses: 1
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