We Will Remember Them. Fathers, Sons, Uncles, Friends, and Foe.
Where Time Marked Time
The morning breaks with silent mist,
The dew like tears upon the grass.
I walk the field where once you kissed
The earth, where echoes never pass.
Your shadow lingers in the light,
A pulse of memory, faint, yet clear.
Though war has stolen you from sight,
Your laughter’s song remains so near.
The poppies bend where blood was spilled,
Soft whispers in the hollow air.
The final post, the bugle thrilled,
Calls us to honor, mourn, and care.
I see your face in every dawn,
In every sky, in every stream.
Though time moves on, you are not gone,
Your voice persists within my dreams.
The letters folded, faded, worn,
Your words, your love, your hope, your grace.
They speak of lives abruptly torn,
Yet in their ink, I find your face.
And when the night descends in blue,
I light a flame, a small embrace.
It burns for all I lost in you,
A beacon in the darkened space.
Time marks the moments we once knew,
The steps we took, the path you paved.
And though the world may start anew,
I hold the heart of what you gave.
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