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Remembrance.
January 11, 2011
She sits at the graveside,
Tears rolling down her face,
Whilst the wind blows harshly,
She stays in that place,
Picking petals off the ruby rose,
humming a tune nobody else knows,
She shakes a little,
the cold wind bites,
On the altar, the candle lights,
and through the air, the bells ring,
In the streets, the veterans sing,
She sits at the graveside,
Tears rolling down her face,
The wind holds her softly,
but it will never replace,
their arms, their voice, their sweet embrace,
it will never replace her brave soldier.
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