For country, they chose to honor a call,
Now the piercing sound of a rifle's report.
An echoing trumpet, sadly says it all.
Let us hero our young as a last resort.
No image portrays our freedom's cost,
Like that of a flag draped casket.
A mental souvenir of war, un-tossed,
On display from memory's basket.
It serves to remind of a hero's place,
Should we treat it as a mere statistic.
For each had a home, name and face,
Harboring dreams that were realistic.
They abnegated those dreams for a chore,
Accepting that vitality might be tried.
Death isn't made a contrivance of war,
But a mental souvenir from those who died.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
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