Let the Bugler Play

A lonely figure stands at attention Old, feeble and walks with a cane He patiently waits Despite his age would not complain. A warm and gentle breeze blows Where white headstone stood erect And on this solemn occasion He waits as they give their last respect The bugler’s heart filled with sorrow While others gather around a grave The old-aged bugler ready To honor the marine for the sacrifice he made A young child beside his mother; The widow overwhelmed with grief. Memory of his father fading For life with him was brief A young marine served with honor In a place called Afghanistan With a Band of Brother He made his final stand And draped upon his casket Old Glory...the Stars and Stripes A symbol of Liberty Made possible by brave and patriotic types The pastor said there is no more worthy honor Then to willing sacrifice one’s life To maintain life’s sweet liberty For his child, and his wife. Upon the white headstones A mist of raindrops begins to fall Then slowly lowering the casket The young child stands proud and tall The solemn service over The bugler sees his cue Then slowly raises the bugle to his lips And with a heavy heart he blew