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by Lynda Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1248397
This is for my son.

The wings of an eagle silently soar
over mountains, trees, rivers and more.
Proudly standing in line with the sun,
were the Indian Nation, their battle won.

Land once taken from braves laid to rest,
buried with riches no one could guess.
Not gold nor silver will ever be found.
Only whispers of the past on sacred ground.

It is said in the Fall when the moon is blue.
Listen to the wolves, what they say is true.
Secrets are told with the beat of a drum.
It says the land belongs to all who come.

Ghosts of the Nation standing tall,
keeping watch for ever, over all.

© Copyright 2007 Lynda (tourlyn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1248397-Indian-Lore