Great Wits Jump
The Library of Stories
In Honor Of
An old soul, in ragged cloth, stood among the rows of chiseled stones,
Besides the dried worn grass and dusty air,
He’d taken what life had thrown.
A fragile air lit upon his skin—cracked, thin, spotted, aged--
Yet the thoughts which rested upon the heart,
Were fresh, still captured in mind’s cages.
“And so, I’ve come to know, my friends,”
He whispers to the fallen honored few,
“That life brings with it many things,
Whose freedoms through our hearts do ring,
From you in warrior shrouds.”
With melancholy accolades’, this aged soldier alone does stand,
A quivering memory stains the tears,
As he salutes, with a worn warrior’s hand.
A warming breeze shifts hard through years,
Upon his thoughts so etched,
Born from loss, upon the cross of life’s fate he bears.
Besides him stands unknown, a warrior young and strong,
In clothing stained from battles fate, from wars long past gone,
Who held the aged, sorrowed arm,
Supporting a comrade from life’s harm,
Through the trials of his journey.
Another stood before them fixed, with rifle crossed and straight,
Surveying the lands before them,
Ensuring no foe, upon his charge, berate.
Still others stood a distance off, upon the gravestone fields,
In salute they returned the strength just given,
For this comrade who refused to yield.
When we ponder on freedoms born, by those who’ve before us gone,
Do we cherish the memory they have given,
From the warriors hard fought throng.
Each sacrifice must upon us lay, for the freedoms they did pay,
Both for the living and those that passed,
For that land of Freedom, we pray, will last!
The aged Warrior does not stand alone,
Nor should the fallen few,
Through us let not the memories fade,
Stand true for those who fought so brave,
Through the trials of their journey.
With peace the aged Warrior shines, his battle truly won,
Who stands alone among the souls,
From whence our Nation’s Freedoms come!
© Copyright 2022 S. C. Gardner