I close my eyes,
and yet I see a flag draped casket,
And as if there, I hear the synchronic
report of rifles,
and the echo of taps that rides the
Perhaps no image portrays the cost of
such as these mental souvenirs gathered
from each war.
They have allowed me, in thought,
to separate fallen heroes from body bags,
while forcing me to review
which also, I can never repay.