ALWAYS REMEMBER

Standing with my little son, he asked excitedly, "Mommy, will you pick me up? There's so much more to see." He climbed upon a wooden bench; I held his little hand. Together, we stood silently and watched the marching band.

A parade of Banners followed and a tear soon filled my eye.
I said that we should raise our hands and salute as they waved by. Soon we saw the soldiers, young and old but in a crowd.
They marched in quiet unison, eyes straight and heads held proud.

My little son then noticed the tear roll down my cheek. He asked why I was crying and I found it hard to speak. Quietly, I told him of the soldiers proud and brave; I mentioned all our heroes who sleep in silent graves.

I explained the price of freedom and the value of its cost, Mentioning the wars we've won, paid with lives we've lost. Then gathering at the Flagpole to pay a last tribute, Soldiers stood with rifles raised for a 21-gun salute. 

Hearts skipped a beat at gunfire while the drummers slowly rapped. You could have heard a pin drop when the bugler, then, played Taps. Soldiers fought and some have died, giving all they had to give So we would have the Freedom in which we shall forever live.

God bless our Heroes, living and dead
In memory of my dad and brother.

Margaret A. Brennan