He Lies In Fields
he lies in fields of chiseled stone,
still at last, but not alone,
once but flesh, now mere bone,
his battles fought, but war not won;
but oh, that laugh! that voice! the gentle touch,
could ever one look say so much?
a hand forever a child to clutch,
echoed in the child grown, in his he holds now safe a son.
Copyright © Andrew Foreman | Year Posted 2017
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