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Old Harve woke up in a cold sweat that day
And he’s never been the same—
He dreamt of a Veteran’s Day parade
Where no other people came.

There were only riderless horses there,
And some empty Sherman tanks,
Pilotless planes, deserted moth-balled ships—
No one watched or waved them thanks.

And there were uniforms marching in place—
But gray phantoms filled their suits—
There were only white crosses on the curbs,
But no children or recruits.

“But this all makes no sense to me!” cried Harve,
“Where’s the gratefulness and cheers?”
Then a gaunt specter turned to him and said:
“This happens with the passing years.

“Oh, it used to be quite different once,
When fights were ones that we chose—
But war and freedom’s now inconvenient—
Seems the blush is off the rose.”

“But liberties are not easy,” sighed Harve,
“They’re for our next generation—
They’re not like fast food or our micro-waves—
It takes time to save a nation!”

Then marchers changed to young men and women,
Who wore their uniforms proud—
As suddenly sidewalks filled with people
Who waved their flags and yelled loud.

Yes, what if they held that grand old parade
And no one came or cared to see?
Then maybe we would deserve what we’d get
And lose all our liberty.

But then that dark, grim specter just vanished,
Like a naysayer in the sky—
And that vet’s parade was the best in years,
As our souls and spirits flew high. 	

Oh, what if they had a Veteran’s Day
And no one had died for me?
Would this still be one nation under God
That was strong and good and free?

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