He’s alone and bleeding – and so far away.
As Death sits beside to impatiently wait
While his thoughts fly home to hug Mom and Dad
And account to the question, “If only I had…”
His burning tears sting a path down his face
And drop to the ground to mark this place.
A place where devotion met sorrow and fear,
The place where a soldier shed his last tear.
And now we pause to help soften this wrong,
And belove all the soldiers who've died alone.
P. Davis
