No frost on the ground, but each breath came as steam
and tears teetered on lowered lashes.
the moon was down, the sun yet to rise
over a field of dead mens ashes.
Flickering candles resisted the breeze,
each flame a solitary light.
But together those single candles,
fought off the enveloping night.
As the living gathered in the grey chill of dawn,
with thoughts of those that had died.
Battles not glorified, sacrifices were,
and as one - the gathering cried.
Each tear a tribute, a thanks, a regret,
an acknowledgment of lives given.
They died because freedom was everyone’s right.
They were not heroically driven.
Heads bowed as the bugler played ‘taps’,
and there was not another sound.
The omnipotent silence that followed,
reverberated across the ground.
Remembrance of a nation’s youth
now spirits standing proud and tall.
Remembrance that all we have
is built on those that fall.
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