Burnt caramel leaves crackle below our boots,
and kindle a glow under the low winter sun,
and rouse an earthly memoir of huffing pyres, decades ago -
 
Frosted clouds from our lips steam the brisk air,
and dispel into the lungs of the witness trees
and dance tauntingly before our weary eyes -
 
Rubber tires send shockwaves through the roads,
and pulse the thumps of wheezing hearts,
and recall the heavy stampedes of fearless men -
 
The exalted statue shadows a plaque, 
and immortalizes the strike of a soldier’s charge,
and boasts the fervent puffing of his gut -
 
His name is a lightning strike to some heartstring,
and breaks like thunder over some home, 
and befalls a long shadow upon some hearthstone -
 
But the rusted nameplate forsakes all sunshine,
and reads a terse devotion cast in bronze,
a fleeting moment in our minds.