| The Last Formation |  |
| When Dandelion's rise to weave a carpet widely spread
'round every gravestone, late in May, we honor our brave dead.
The soldiers and the sailors, once so scattered by each war,
now stand Their Last Formation, undivided evermore.
Each daughter, now forever gone, each lost or missing son,
thought not to fear Their dire end, would never turn to run.
For every fallen soldier that once bravely took a stand,
Did hold their ground for but one cause: This People and This Land.
We rise at dawn and gather, all to make this somber day
one filled with tiny, waving flags. We march. We cry. We pray.
Old soldiers and young children walk together side by side.
Each footstep drums out Freedom's song. Each teardrop tells our Pride.
As carbines ring out shots above, symbolic of Their fall,
each volley's sharp retort will touch the heart within us all.
The Lilacs fall to slowly form a sea of purple waves
that gently travel to and fro between Their valiant graves.
Defiant headstones gilt with flowers tossed by Springtime's breeze,
forever honor all these souls who now can stand At Ease. | By Brian Swan
Copyright 1998
Listed March 6, 2007 |
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