Over where the family sits and enjoys the company they share;
Sweet melodies are sung by flowers of the past:
the horrors that happened there.
Unknowingly they carry on-
not one asks what occurred.

               But in that open and vivacious field were words a soldier slurred
               He laid there dying within himself
               Alone,
               Cold and scared…
                                                            Yet all around were men
                                                            who ran and were stilled-
                              Screaming, crying, frightened

               He lay…
               Words that would never be spoken
               nor hugs that would be shared;
               Did that soldier slur as bullets around him flared.
               He let one small tear of triumph fall
               for country and men he died.

He won the battle after all-
while being torn apart inside.

               His smile grim and painful
               His arm floundered to his heart.
               His head laid gently in the mud,
               and his helmet adorned him like a halo.

                                                                                          His triumph at last was shown,
                                                                                          his daughters hand clutched his tightly
                                                                                          as his had the day she died.

               Wife’s letter in the other,
               and slowly, very slowly…. He       Let         Go

                                                            But in the other-
                                                            he still clutched, the girl with the halo.

How perfect was his dying!
               and graceful as it seemed;
                              to the men around him;
                                             nothing but a bloody scene.

Goodbye, my soldier dear.
your sacrifice is great:
and your death- cheerless

Your family now picnics,
and there they forget of great grandfather’s gift.
His will, His testament.

                              Live on valiant soldier,
                              your daughter caress.
                              For those who have forgotten:
                              the freedom that you surrendered-

Your family not gains.

                              Live on valiant soldier,
                              though your story is forgotten
                                             the result is:

M           A             N            I              F             O            L             D