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From this height in any direction,
As far as your can see,
White headstones stand at attention
Forever regimentally.

And across grassy slopes they bristle,
Like bleached granite dominoes,
Dressed “just so” in endless ranks
Of straight and perfect rows.

Each ordered here, save plumy trees,
Are uniformly hewn the same;
Except for “Cross” or “Star-of David”,
And of course, the dates, the rank and name.

And daily the visitors and curious come
To remember and wander through
Silent columns of eternally fallen,
And to shed a tear or two...

Joseph I. Middlesworth
2/2001 (All rights reserved; “Canvas Wings”)

By ishmael

© 2019 ishmael (All rights reserved)


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