The Fallen

The Fallen He kneels before an granite stone As if before a throne He dreams of days of yesteryear But glad, now he is home So many lads, had stayed behind To never leave the field And though their bodies, are lying here Their spirits never yields He see them as, they were back then, Young and strong and brave Not what lie beneath this stone, Below this grassy grave He knows they, are still on guard, He counts them all, as kin And savers every day at home Until he joins them, once again He wipes away a single tear As he stands up tall and straight Remembering that dear young boy And his final fate Although many years go by And his brother has to wait He promises it won't be long Till he meets him at the gates