Fifty Years
A pillbox hat, a suit of pink,
The blood and all the tears;
That small salute, so solemn –
Is it really fifty years?
A swearing-in, a widow’s face
Behind a netted veil;
The coffin in a hearse and then
The bugle’s lonely wail.
The anniversary today
Demands that we take note
Of innocence and what was lost
In times that seem remote.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
