If I were blind, I could still find you here,
here at your home on the hill,
My long walk of one thousand tears
I make with a very heavy heart.
Down Eisenhower, past McCleallan with it's Civil War Arch.
Past York to that familar black sign.
I turn on Bradley and I find myself with you once again.
This time your tree has grown and it gives us shade
as I sit and talk with you.
How sad I am, as I sit with you
I bring you a red rose……….
with all my love………………
Flowers are the only gift I can give you
now that you are here on the hill.
Thousands of people walk here today
but no one knows you son…..but me.
Written in loving memory of Sergeant Franklin Dennis Winters by his mother.
May we never forget the sacrifices made by our military forces, whether in be in war or in peace.
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Michael Robert Patterson was born in Arlington and is the son of a former officer of the US Army. So it was no wonder that sooner or later his interests drew him to American history and especially to American military history. Many of his articles can be found on renowned portals like the New York Times, Washingtonpost or Wikipedia.
Reviewed by: Michael Howard