Proud to Pass This On



I watched the flag pass by one day,
It fluttered in the breeze.



A young Marine saluted it,
Then he stood at ease...







I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert,
He'd stand out in any crowd.











I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil,
How many mothers' tears?










How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of Taps one night
When everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play,
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That Taps had meant "Amen",
















When a flag had draped a coffin
Of a brother or a friend.










I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of father, sons and husbands,
With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea












Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.
















Author Unknown
Sent by an email from a loved one


Enjoy Our Freedom and God Bless Our Troops.
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others to see.

Website designed by Donna Groskopf, March 2004