Tony Bush Poet Verse

The Early Last Post

At close distance sounds the bugle, 
melancholia conceived and born, 
notes eschewing warmth in 
the dewy shades of dawn. 
Of this sadness, numb and heavy, 
laden with ingots of lead, 
symbols of speechlessness 
for words that never were said. 
They hang black anvils in our minds, 
weighted notions that descend, 
dispense regret for time laid waste 
our sadly absent friend. 
We knew of his illustrious flame, 
commemorate the smiles he gave, 
and send our love ingenuously 
beyond the refuge of his grave. 
And ringing in our ears 
the early last post euphony, 
spreads sails of grief and lore 
as but for the Grace of God go we.

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