The Bugle's Rest

The bugle sleeps, a mournful, hollow sound, As silence falls upon this hallowed ground. For those who fell, beneath a foreign sky, Who gave their all, for freedom, and to die. A moment's hush, for hearts that ceased to beat, For dreams unfinished, victories incomplete. For green fields, now stained with crimson red, For voices still, and battles left unled. And silence too, for those who stand today, In watchful vigil, keeping fear at bay. Protecting shores, with courage in their eyes, Beneath the sun, and 'neath the starlit skies. Remember those, whose stories dimly gleam, A whispered echo, a half-forgotten dream. The ones who charged, into the fiery fray, And vanished there, beyond the light of day. They marched beyond, a celestial parade, Through pearly gates, a heavenly brigade. Now angel wings, where uniforms once flew, God's mighty guard, forever strong and true. The flag at half, a solemn, whispered plea, For all who bought our liberty so free. A moment's pause, on this Memorial Day, Yet more they earned, than words can ever say. More than a silence, fleeting, brief, and small, They gave their lives; they gave their very all. Let gratitude and honor, ever burn, For those who fought, and never did return.