War Cry
I did not raise a son
to die alone
on Flanders field,
his precious life to yield.
I raised a son
to grow in stature,
to stand, mature
at life's rich threshold
not to die
amid spent bullets.
I raised a son
to outlive me
not to be
one of a thousand
faceless heroes
fallen in a foreign land
I raised my son
to grow into a man.
Copyright © Greta Robinson | Year Posted 2006
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