I hear the sound of distant guns,
as good lives march away,
to foreign lands to fight and die,
to preserve the rights of freedom,
for those in that distant land,
can have the right to live,
and not under a tyrant’s hand.
They go not as heroes for glory,
but to help innocent souls,
so they can sleep securely at night.
However, the battlefield where they are,
hold allsorts of dangers there,
some will never return safely home.
Their souls will look over
the battlefield where they fell,
possibly wondering at
the folly of it all.
Therefore, the next time you look at,
a monument with columns of names,
remember that their sacrifice
was made not for one, but for all.
David Harris
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/remember-66/
