T R I B U T E
The winter sun glistens on the white marble tomb,
but we sense no remorse, no hint of gloom,
No regret that he marched when others ran,
True to his Homeland, here lies a man!
At a time of turmoil, in a land of cowards,
he went to the strife.
In a steamy Asian jungle, where locals feared to go,
For us, he gave his life;
Under white marble rests this hero, now dead.
But where are the tears that his life’s blood was shed?
Honored he rests in this hallowed ground
Where a sentry’s step is the only sound.
His sleep is eternal, under polished stone,
Except to GOD, forever unknown!
COMMENT: Originally written in the early 80’s, at a time when many Vietnam Veterans could well-remember being treated less than honorably by their government, and fellow citizens. The writing reflects frustration and the bitterness, then common, among most veterans of that conflict in S.E. Asia.