| Commiseration |  |
| I didn't know your son,
His name, his rank or age.
Our paths have never crossed,
At least not 'til today.
I saw him on the plane,
One flown from overseas.
It was the pilot's honor,
To carry men like these.
He didn't do like some,
Deplane and kiss the ground.
He didn't move a muscle,
He didn't make a sound.
There was no lively band
Or music in the air.
No festive decorations,
Or banners floating there.
No crowd of friends and family,
Shouting Welcome Back!
Just six who bore him down the ramp.
To a hearse so long and black.
And tho' his sad return
Leaves you full of pain.
Know the life he freely gave
Was truly not in vain.
He felt it was his duty
To bravely volunteer.
And help defend the freedoms
This country holds so dear.
So pray to God for comfort,
And from this loss you'll heal.
Remember that He lost His Son,
He knows just how you feel. | By Ken B. Harper
Copyright 2006
Listed 5/11/2006 |
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