Five Star Mother
On a little country farm,
Beneath a Mighty Oak.
There, before Five Headstones,
An old Woman in a cloak.
Though dug so long ago,
The Graves were freshly kept.
With Bible in her hand,
On her knees, the Woman wept.
Five Sons fell in Battle,
Three on Land and Two at Sea.
Now every Year, to the Day,
Was there on bended knee.
This somber scene repeats,
Too many times to recall.
One Hundred Thousand Heartbreaks,
We never knew at all.
For the Mothers of the Fallen, We see your Tears.
Copyright © Randy Freie | Year Posted 2025
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