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O' LIVE Sweet TAPS We Miss Thee

O' LIVE Sweet TAPS We Miss Thee

Whoever thought it would come to this?
Live TAPS for the dead are dismissed.
The live bugle is silent. It's no longer real.
It's as dead as respect. It's a callous repeal.

Now technology's robot waits in the wings,
And a CD spits out the sound.
To think that TAPS have come to this,
And no humans come around.

This one last human act of respect,
Should never be summarily dismissed.
Instead we owe homage to what they gave,
To our heroes who no longer exist.

Few debts can be paid to those heroes,
Call out for LIVE TAPS to be played.
Instead of robots, send buglers,
Where our veteran bodies are laid

LIVE TAPS are the ultimate honor,
For heroes who lay in the ground.
Demand no less than living lips
To bestow that Bugler's sound.

Copyright © Margaret Wade | Year Posted 2020


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