Daniel Larson Poet Rhyme

Still walks with the unknown

Was not born to grow old,
His days were numbered long ago.
Would not find pots of gold,
His dreams drifted to and fro.
Mornings will come with rain
Throughout the passing of time;
Walking in constant pain
Though he will pay it no mind.

Pines not for battles fought,
Sings not the tunes he'd compose;
Yet there's names ne'er forgot,
Buried in Arlington's rows.
For all those he has known
His sorrow's hard to contain,
And for days all alone
Somehow feels he is to blame.

Through the sleet, snow and shine
Nothing will stand in the way;
Twenty one steps in time,
A never changing display.
Over the years it's the same, 
Only one can sense the gloom
Of the man with no name
Who rests in that famous tomb.

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