Veterans Eve

Upon this fortnight,
Veteran's Eve,
above and below
Arlington's sacred ground,
soldiers lay whispering of heartfelt
stories they wish to tell.

I give to each
a quill of hearts to write
memories of their fate.
I give to some,
lips to engrave
portraits of loved ones
upon white slates.
I give to most
my hand of silent thought.
As each describe
their face at death,
in fox holes or bunkers
with or without
murmured last requests.

As night blossoms into red at dawn,
words fade into promises
of my Country, my Love, my Valentine.
What is left from night’s sweet
breath is pink cherry blossoms
and soft footprints,
scattered in white laced tints.
As soldiers bow their heads
in mourning’s grace
they say,
“Least you not forget us, the heroes that
fought for the freedoms you enjoy today.”

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