'taps'
Strolling about a military cemetery the other day,
In the distance I heard a solitary bugler play,
Twenty-four haunting notes for an honored son.
"Taps" was rendered for a hero, his faithful service done.
He proudly wore the uniform and felt it his solemn obligation,
To place service above self to defend the Constitution of this nation.
He now rests in hallowed clay awaiting Gabriel's triumphant call.
On that day he'll join his comrades in formation standing tall!
The dulcet notes reverberate across the rolling hills and plain.
He joins generations of gallant patriots who asked for little gain.
He sacrified his all on the Altar of Honor for all we hold so dear.
Even the majestic eagle, the emblem of our nation, sheds a tear.
Since its genesis during the Civil War by General Butterfield,
The doleful sound of "Taps" has echoed o'er many a battlefield.
This faithful warrior who died for mankind's follies to atone,
Will have his name etched for eternity on a simple marble stone.
Dear comrade, you've earned your well-deserved eternal rest.
God in His compassion will welcome you and clasp you to His breast.
You may be assured that as under this hallowed soil you lie,
That all is well! Safely rest, our noble son! God is ever nigh!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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