Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Elegy Beautiful Poems | Elegy Poems About Beautiful

These Elegy Beautiful poems are examples of Elegy poems about Beautiful. These are the best examples of Elegy Beautiful poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Elegy |

How beautiful it can be

How beautiful it can be:

see your grandfather still so deeply in love with your grandma after she's gone.

How beautiful it can be:

Hear their love story all over again,
About how they met,
how they found trust,
How they fell in love,
How did they deal with all problems around them.

How beautiful it can be:

Hear, how much he loves her,
how much he cares for her.

He said:"She's gone but her pure soul is still with me"
He said:i saw her....she's waiting for me...she's waving at me....She wants me there with her..."

the last thing he said was:

I  can't live without her,


Copyright © nina mihandoust | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

On Occasion

A beautiful time, the slightest breeze 
We yearn to be more than lost 
Your charm so delightful, alluring
Warm to my every thought
The beauty of life's song 
Sings so sweet in our minds
On occasion our souls will play
Among the ruins within our hearts
Delighted in everyday life
Intimately peaceful with every breath 

Copyright © Jules M. | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |

Oh Syria

Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday, somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…

I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money, is it land?
I do not own any of them, I’m just a simple man

I remember, when I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmothers hands…
You ripped me away from her, from my home
You took me away from my heart, you took me away from my soul

I feel helpless, I feel low
It’s hard to play along when I know, I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.

When I look at my country, people I want to save
When I look around me, people I wish to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
When the world around is bigger than you

To the fools who dare murder in his name
When God gave us life…
He warned us, only he can take our lives…

Oh Syria, my home
Oh Syria, my all
Oh Syria, what did they hurt you for?
I am Proud to be your son…

Copyright © Zeki Majed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |


To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice

The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content 
With the debauched path she hath went.

Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon

I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu

You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed

She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat

Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse

But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.

Copyright © Tom Hyam | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

Christmas without Mom

 To eulogize your life when we have spent so many years apart
 gives me comfort and memories of your precious passed life
 You speak to me in my dreams and share images of a castle by the stream
 it's walls shine of elegance a beauty of luster gold for your soul it now holds

 My Mother, you are now a jewel of heaven, a gem in God's crown
 as his loving arms hold you and his angels wings wrap around.

 I know you sit in the room of hearts and some day you will take me in your arms,
 while the angels play their harps like the soft swaying sound of a violin my soul 
 will then depart.

 As I stroll to the waters edge of sadness and my reflection is looking back
 I see my mothers wonderful smile our characteristics and mannerism
 you blessed me as a child.

 Tonight I will sleep and you will whisper in my ear all the stories 
 from the day that I was born, taking away my sadness and
 giving me comfort to help me not to mourn. 

 So on Christmas morn when I awake from my dream that we shared
 I will not see the lights from my Christmas tree
 only the glow from the angel who has given me a life and a soul that is free.

 T Reams 12/3/15      I miss you Mom 


Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |

No Words

Looking at my Father and Mother
was like looking
at God! 
No words
can describe!
What then is God?

GRAYDYE   10-28-05

Copyright © gary dye | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |


Heart you are the destroyer
Heart you’re a killer
Why are you doing this to me?
Why don’t you do your functions? 
Stop to interfere with my other organs?

You are making a festival of diseases to my body
While you are incurable
You’re exposing me to high blood pressure
It requires a hypothetically proven cardiologist to operate you
Every time when I see something of beauty you intrude my mind

You’re making wrong decisions for me
You’re purpose is to pump blood and
Is to remove the waste products that I don’t need
Not to see outcomes of a decision before you commit them
Now I am friendless because of your companion jealousy

People asks themselves what can pass through me without an attempt 
My friends think that I am a copy cat because of you
A stone is sufficient to be your replacement if you were not my life support 
Heart Stop intrusions and let my mind make decisions for me

Copyright © Sello Matsepe | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |

Sleeping Beauty Crisis

the rain becomes autumn
and autumn becomes rain
there is a Gold Surviving System
(GSS) around the brain
with unexpected creatures
who lift the modern burden
of being so involved 
in glass rotating hours
curriculum vitae sleep
and we call this LOVE
and we fall in a drop
among yellow leaves.


Copyright © simona dancila | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |

Apple Of My Eye

Shana Aubrey Harris – 
 whose existence begat by dada and da mama; aye
revel your bursting at figurative seams viz maturation, and know by
chatting over telephone, your aura, charisma, 
   and persona finds me blinking back tear ducts 
   ready to loose water works i.e. cry
at how fate gifted this papa, whose existence 
   would be devoid without you, and 
   purposefulness undermined if loss of such a daughter as thee
   (one young lady more valuable than words can spell), 
   a reason to live shipwrecked 
   with psyche marooned to die
   emotional devastation, 
   never quashed even mouthed or uttered fee fie
Foe fum – jack (of Beanstalk storybook fame) would also lack will to live, 
   (yes as would the giant), thence, 
   this grunting, groveling, and grieving guy
forced to traverse firmament like a zombie – hi
King over boulevard of broken dreams, cuz I
(re: this humdrum Harris heir), his soul asylum inconsolably reign
   if irrevocably punctured akin to mortally wounded crane
willpower to defeat death, could not be staved, stanched, nor stopped,
   tis fool hardy to allow
   darksome, irksome, or unwholesome thoughts, whence best for brain 
to rejoice your awesome, lithesome and winsome transformation
   into a beauty, a non-biased commentary I cannot resist to exclaim 
an angelic, beloved charming progeny frolicking thru
   the meandering time stream, perhaps stopping at brooks edge 
   where flora and fauna frame
thee, (infinitesimal instant doth camera cap cha) if game
to pose as a gamine hipster inspiring a jazzy mosaic – type meme
before resuming dipping back 
   into waters of life, whereby experiential arcade
beheld like courtly table 
   adorned with a fancyfeast to BuzzFeed, 
   the sights and smells before yar senses appear as a charade
boot upon scrutiny, ye exhibit hesitancy 
   to inch closer; comfort food beckons so ye haint a frayed
to take steps into ever glade
puzzled at cornucopia cob bulled together and laid
without presence of maid
in America, this pastiche of quality eats, 
   and thoughts circulate sans who paid
for resplendent sustenance, 
   whence Edenic garden ye strayed
until, a life size topiary chain saw creation 
   (a hedgerow carved in likeness of – Shana Aubrey Harris)
all of a sudden burst of doting, and fawning family and friends
   salute touching vote wondrous young lady
   no amount of riches would anybody trade
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, a shout rings out 
   glory and scale of your worthiness no mass out weighed!

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

America the Beautiful

America the Beautiful 
The heartland of America of peace and old farmhouses,
the country I read about as a young man it is still there
although news we are served is of riots and mass shooting.
Sturdy farmers in blue overall at the bottom of the road
 have collections of old stuff from recent past things
collected for the love of it, but you can buy some if they
feel like selling, canny know the value of scrap metal
Nice roads in a green landscape and tall three, and no 
police sirens scream around winding corners and bullets
do not fly through the air hitting a child. 

This is America the beautiful, I will go there someday,
perhaps buy a rusty old Dodge that has been standing under
a tree for twenty five years-who cares- and talk to the old 
farmer about this and the sorry life of city dwellers.        

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |


precious cargo
princess in making
those precise green eyes
the colors of fall
completed with poise
your presence remains
reminiscing on those mornings-
you'd follow me round-
without a sound-
no expectation-
but with the unconditional

final breaths within my arms
silent suffocating
death sure appears cruel

Rest in peace Belle. 16 years old <3 I love you.

Copyright © Sarah Casey | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |

The Poet who Did Not Know it

A knife in the pen

Dispensing blood's inks

A shroud of mind

In each cell thinks

The sentence is endless

Each thought is perturbed

The notion of freedom

Becomes more disturbed

Fire the match to the torch to the castle

Instead use a cap, a gown, and a tassel

Such children's toys

Deserve to be broken

They are tools of destruction

Like words never spoken

Copyright © Charles Rutherford | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

Beautiful Strife

I lament over the passing of thee  
Privately, not for eyes to see
Shall I write not say a word
This world a cold cruel place.

Your path one of beautiful strife
Many unaware the glory of life
So many quotes they say absurd
This world a cold cruel place.

My face did sink in untimely passing
Shall I eat or go on fasting
How I want this feeling to purge
This world a cold cruel place.

On the brink from smelling the ash
We cannot bring back the past
Emotions hidden not let to surge
This world a cold cruel place.

Copyright © ANDREA TRAVIS | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |


This old place been good to me,
Seen me through some misery 
Helped me find my blind way through the dark 
Up or down I come along 
Get up here and sing my song 
I feel I belong at Acky Park. 

Kindnesses I've been shown 
By people I have barely known 
That's the kind of conduct hits the mark 
Up or down I come along 
Get up here and sing my song 
I feel I belong at Acky Park. 

  Watch the other singers take the stage 
  Listen to them sing their songs of longing, love and rage 
  Every type of music gets played here 
  Country, soul and rock and roll all music to my ears  

Photos, mikes, youtube too
Everything's done here for you 
By special folk we all appreciate 
All you gotta do is show 
Book your turn and off you go 
Just make sure you don't turn up too late  

  Here's your chance tonight to get it right
  Noone cares if you are none too good or way outta sight 
  Don't compare yourself to all the rest  
  Just get up there, share your soul and brother do your best. 

 Up or down I come along 
 Get up here and sing my song  
 I feel I belong at Acky Park  

This old place been good to me 
Seen me through some misery 
Helped me find my blind way through the dark 
Up or down I come along 
Get up here and sing my song 
I feel I belong at Acky Park 
I feel I belong at Acky Park. 


Copyright © Louis Spence | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy |

Imagine, Predator

What if all Africans returned home?
The cradle of humankind would be rescued.
The hungry wolves would be kept at bay.
Mother Nature would be preserved.
Even at a high price to pay.

What if all Africans returned home?
Lives of Mama Africa's children in disarray would be saved.
Paradise would be home and never again away.
Self-love would be nurtured and preserved.
Mama's fake lovers would dread that day.

What if all Africans returned home?
Mama's boyfriends' candies, toys, used stuff, pocket change would be saved.
Mama wouldn't need to pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray and pray.
Mama would be the anointed one. Enough, she'd have prayed.
Mama would think of her sad past and simply be gay.

What if all Africans returned home?
Some would return loaded with fury and vengeance for the predator pissed.
Some would return with ideas and tools ready to bray.
Some would return different, having been turned.
Some would return simply gay.

What if all Africans returned home?
Predator, would you be sad and very annoyed?
Predator, would you be in total disarray?
Would you be ready to become the hay?
Or Predator? Would you be simply gay?

Denis DNT
Shanghai, November 2015.

Copyright © Denis DNT | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy |

Blank slate

ul clean, a blank slate 
Take me to that place beyond pain and hate 
I hear death lightly rapping, knuckles at the door 
Use the key, set yourself free, so you can soar 

The ending is just a beginner 
For the lover of life's not a sinner 
Countless incarnations more to go 
For the soul to learn all it needs to know 

Like a window, wiped invisibly clear 
Such that flying birds can't even see 
Where there is no longer any separation 
All is one, no need for you and then me 

I see them crying from the parallel 
I'm right here with them, but they can't tell 
The five senses so limited 
Why so shocked over what was always temporary? 

Don't worry, I'll see you again soon 
Soul recognition, sure as a new moon 
And there we'll be, a brand new start 
Where only one can go with a child's heart

Copyright © buggie Felix | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |


On the path
we battle the lure
of ego.

Estaferallah is weapon
Lifted not against external force,
but arming the inner world
where we have allowed
the dust of life to gather.

As the Eskimo has a hundred words for snow,
because they live in a world where the subtle differences in snow
are essential,
the seeker encounters the subtle faces of ego.

We have words for these:
arrogance, negativity, cynicism,
false pride and its opposite, self doubt.
And we have the antidotes:
humility, honesty, ordinariness,
sacrifice, courage, prayer.
when facing these subtleties,
we have the choice of which way to go:
towards the self importance of the ego,
or towards purity.

With Estaferallah we ask
to always move towards purity,
brushing the dust of negativity
from our hearts.

Copyright © Jamesa Love | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy |


Bird, bird, when would mother come back?
The pumpkin leaves is dying and our
Compound is filled by spilled blood.
Would mother ever come back again friend?
Would there be more blood in the compound?
Father has fallen, Nkechi is gone and 
The future of those living is blank.
The shrine has be dismentled and the
Walls of the compound has fallen apart
And I am all alone, alone in tears.

Child, child, mother won't be coming back.
She had gone with the breast milk and smiles.
Leave the pumpkin leaves for her own trouble
Having what matters at the time it matters is
The best child, hold those tears for your beloved country
Until the end of time in death before dishonour.

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |

Feet Swap Pebbles

Vishweshwara, my lord my devotion
I was once born; I think you knew it
I lost something far, not far from my feet 
But now it is extreme from my heart

It is my confidence, courage, curiosity
I am missing my poetic ardor
I am lacking my statistic fervor
I am omitting my valor

Once I used to be a victor 
Now nighters of it a sector 
Once I used to be like me
Now a word branded to be inspiration is stabbing me. 

Once my dreams used be as cumbersome as clouds 
Daring and baring the heavy heat of sun
But now I am left as one with notions none
There is no hope to cope up with amiable ideas.

But still I will not stop as I am pale
Till the last atom of most popular oxygen I inhale.
The line of attack I toddle may gaze sole
But my emotions are full and whole in its role.

Copyright © Bhanu Siva Krishna | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy |


Cold murder
Fierce cold
That waged war with a fire ball
The thunder claps
The rain smiles
Walking down down memory lane
To those beautiful avenue
Young and beautiful was I,
Free to be me.
Those humble memories I hold with nostalgia
I cherish them more than life
Not long ago,I celebrated my victory
My world nose-dived
I was indeed happy,so glad I made it through
But!...My joy starts to crash
In my very eyes
I must survive,but how would I?
Troubles and confusion the path I only know
Listen,I'm a survivour
I told myself and forged ahead
Burying all hindrances behind,let's go.
Time and time again
I look with tears in my eyes
At the recent happenings
And is as if God is gone
Everything seems black
But,can I still hold on?
My heart is broken
Down and completely out
Well I hoe, hope would arrive soon
And this horrendous nightmare would be over
Only to find out I've been dreaming.

Copyright © OPEMIPO AKINSOYINU | Year Posted 2010

Details | Elegy |


 To make a new experience,
once I thought to walk down my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge….. 
I crossed the Chowrungee
& walked down the foot of the Grand,
I saw an oldman to his daily daydreams',
eyes to the heaven - and hands to the earth,
leaning there to the marble pillar beside the Bata-showroom.
I crossed him and hundreds passed by,
thousands looked at him
and rest, running to the new market's new brand.
Little further I went…
infront of the Indian Museum,
there I saw a woman, with her child in the warmth of her arms,
sitting there crying for her life and praying for her child,
but, none looked down to the present,
rather, eager to know the legends,
and hundreds came out by the history;
rest were still in the museum,
in the future through the time machine.
I went on, walking down by the foot,
crossed the road and  further a two minutes of walk,
as I headed to the Victoria Memorial Hall-
the beautiful marble palace and its calm surrounding,
there the couples making their day, and ,
one making a sketch of that beautiful marble architecture,
but, none could make a sketch of that little baby's heart…
who's clothings were only his naked body,
crying for little shelter and thirst for mother's breast milk. 
He was born to make a new life,
and he's lying there for someone could sketch his lost life.
I realized then ,
what I thought of an experience to walk down to my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge,
is an experience to make a sketch….
of the real life,
 in Kolkata.

Copyright © Swairik Das | Year Posted 2010

Details | Elegy |


Time had passed so swiftly,
but the sadness of yesterday
has never gone away from anyone:
as tears and flowers float on water...
on a new September' morning of late summer,
in this brave and beautiful City of Nations,
revealing a dreary tone, 
which has gathered to grieve
its tremendous losses;
and did that memory ever leave:
our fervent prayers and fondest thoughts... 
to make room for forgiveness?

The souls of all who were struck
by those roaring planes, for a cause so unjustified,
here in a sad, but memorable place are alive
in the eyes of their loved ones;
and their smiles can even comfort them
in spite of the heavy sorrow hanging over them,
and if they could talk to them from their peaceful place...
they'd tell them:  they're beside them to ease their load!

O brave and beautiful City of Nations,
with wide gates and generous hearts...
let this gloomy day turn into a light of eternal hope,
where everyone can hold hands and finally cope
with the intense grief that love can gently free from pain:
by clinging to a promise that never loses its shine!
O brave and beautiful City of Nations,
mourn together and let the flute and violin
console you with their sad harmony;
O weeping hearts, invite joy
by constantly remembering:  how
they laughed and cherished life in every way;
it can be found in the mist of unconquerable sorrows!
O brave and beautiful City of Nations,
when they died, something nobler lived on:
their sacrifice...to lead us into a safer tomorrow!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2008

Details | Elegy |

A Senior Moment - part dos

written months ago commemorating 
the graduation from a vaunted charter school 
in Bend, Oregon of thy lovely youngest,
this papa could not attend - 
geographical distance constituting the primary determinant.
*          *          *          *          *          *                                                       
Soundcloud springboard no matter 
what destiny each young man or woman 
decides to pursue. Though accolades dedicated 
genuinely (just my outlying participation) 
special veneration x2c accorded beautiful 
radiant daughter ecstatic gloating honestly jubilant 
kindred made noble perseverance reaching 
the ultimate write x zit that will usher her 
onward toward opportunities sustained 
by confidence gained thru academic ambition, 
dynamic dedication, and gigantic germination 
of maturation, whose individual future 
*          *          *          *          *          *                                                       
trajectory predicated with the rubric of essential 
scholastic tools essential to gain positive 
further education and thence employment endeavors. 
So Punim (whom this papa does 
love and miss) attempted to let the words 
tumble upon the display screen communicating 
in my patois, (a gallimaufry of mumbo jumbo 
shrimp limp ping missive) at your success 
attaining a laudable  momentous occasion per 
rejoicing, no matter the message possibly 
lost amidst this cobbled gobbledygook, 
which attempts to pass as acclaimed literary 
endeavor. Okay, I experience tears of euphoria 
and misgiving at lack of finances to share 
in person how this dada daubs dribbling 
tears ducts. Congratulations thy beloved Shana.

Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

When I Die

When I Die
Let the angels sing
Let the sunshine turn into rain

When I Die
Don't shed a tear
I shall be in the 
heavens above

When I Die
Meet me there
Its the beautiful place
that you'll see called Heaven

When I Die 
Nothing will do me no harm
The bad days are gone by
No more weeping eyes
No more mistakes 
No more going through
the pain that ache me

When I Die
God has set my soul free
Now I am free
My life will never be the same
my soul had gotten weak, wasn't able to move

When I Die
Now I will be able to live the perfect life
I always wanted to live
Now here is the peace
for me where I lay my weaken body

When I Die
My eyes will be close 
But never forgetting who I was 
Where I came from
Never forgetting the loved ones 
Family, friends, and enemies
No matter who you were
I still loved you
Nver forgetting who you are

When I Die
As each day passes by
surely I'll miss you 
Maybe you'll miss me too
Don't always come teary eyed
Remember who you are
And the special things that God will have for you

When I Die
Now I will become a beautiful angel
Pray for you above
each and everyday

When I Die
I will be waiting on you
In that special place above
where its called Heaven

When I Die
When I Die

Copyright © Deneshia Bryant | Year Posted 2006

Details | Elegy |

Sweet Angel of Love

Sweet angel of love,
Your face as soft as a dove.
You caress my face at night,
And i have a dream of your beautiful sight.
Sweet angel of love,
You send me light from above.
I think of you when i'm alone,
Wishing you were here,and not gone.
I miss you oh so very much,Your beautiful smile,and your tender touch.
Sweet angel of love!

Copyright © Beth Underwood | Year Posted 2006

Details | Elegy |

To Pete Seeger - circa shortly before his death - verse 2

unsure if this epistle (possibly 
coming across as all mixed up)
like some mish mashed verse
ye might arrange and rearrange into a song
living social in the country of upstate New York state
epitomizing spartan holistic existence
somewhere over the rainbow with a hefty purse
exemplifying decades of fame and fortune
that odds on favorite moost did highly rate
your fount of endless lyrical musical
natural playing style auditory tunes ears did immerse
themselves from just one man’s hand
whether newlyweds who did marry a loving mate
or others exhaling their final breath
afore crossing the river of Jordan inside the hearse
while the convoy chants the favorite chorus
abiyoyo with that standard amen for the late
mortal, whereby such preferential fanfare
for said loss of precious friend family doth curse.

little or no great expectations 
(by dickens) feedback
will be forth coming to this average joe
who merely chose to plunk himself down here
and simply let spontaneity take full rein
this spur of the moment ode 
(perhaps difficult to comprehend)
to a fellow you do not know and travel down
a shady lane (more akin 
to a boulevard of broken dreams) in the main
with elusive passion to live in tandem with nature
whereby a garden this dad could hoe
reaping from sweat of thine brow afterward
upon festival of flowers this body will be lain
but the spouse prepared the siesta meal,
and hence now end this rambling poem to go
to ponder all my trials and tribulations
whilst in need to feed this body and brain.


Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

America The Beautiful

  Every day, we see people that need help; you
 rush pass them like they are not there.

 So many are disabled United States Veterans,
 that travel as ghosts among us; we see them
 in our mind's eye, but not with our vision.
 As a Nation, American's are supposed to care
 about each other, but, as a rule, they only
 care about their interests and forget
 that these veterans are the very people that
 gave them freedom, sometimes at aterrible

 So, the next time you see someone that needs
 help, stop, look, listen, and think about
 the circumstances if the situation was

 Would you want someone to help you?

Copyright © Sara Cenno | Year Posted 2005