[Newspoetry] Tribute where tribute is due

[DL Emerick]

Whose footsteps on these hallowed grounds

Now march in silent thoughts as resounds

Steady rolls of drum beats for lost souls

Buried beneath in their resting knolls?

 

I came to grieve for my grief I felt,

Wrapped about me by a blanket belt,

Hanging shapeless down my bending back,

Thinking grimly on what I now lack.

 

Buried there was my friend who made war

Upon foes he never knew next door,

Over in far lands no home to him,

Never knowing of their ways or them.

 

He went to fight and even to kill,

Doing what was duty as his will.

I miss of him most his common sense,

To do his duty without pretense.

 

Still, he's gone and my feet slowly trod

This grassy spot above rock and sod.

He never knew his own death, none do;

But it's his grave that yet fills my view.

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