I watched the flag pass by one day. It fluttered in the breeze. A young Marine saluted it, and then he stood at ease. I looked at him in uniform So young, so tall, so proud, He'd stand out in any crowd. I thought how many men like him Had fallen through the years. How many died on foreign soil? How many mothers' tears? How many pilots' planes shot down? How many died at sea? How many foxholes were soldiers' graves? No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of TAPS one night, When everything was still I listened to the bugler play And felt a sudden chill. I wondered just how many times That TAPS had meant "Amen," When a flag had draped a coffin Of a brother or a friend. I thought of all the children, Of the mothers and the wives, Of fathers, sons and husbands With interrupted lives. I thought about a graveyard At the bottom of the sea Of unmarked graves in Arlington. No, freedom isn't free.
I'm in my "fabulous fifties" and my husband and I have been married 25 years. We have a son and a daughter who are both in college. so we are reluctantly entering the empty-nest years. I was an RN in my former (pre-kids) life which comes in handy as I serve in our church's care ministry.
Chatting over a cup of coffee with a friend to encourage and support one another (and share a laugh or even a tear) is one of my favorite things to do.
What a beautiful tribute to our soldiers! Thank you Linda.
ReplyDelete