by: Thomas Albritton1
A poem which honors those who have fallen so that we may stand….
like the lives of the many who died on this field.
The sounds of battle are long gone,
but the memory of the pain felt will never leave.
Young and old does this field hold,
as you close your eyes and the light does fade.
This ground will hold your souls,
and as the sun sets and fades into night,
we hear the faint sounds of whisper in the air.
The mighty battle field once again stirs,
the souls that live on this hallowed ground,
are once again alive.