In gardens of stone, lay soldiers who stood alone
on frozen hills,
beside vallied rills.

In gardens of stone, a trumpet blown
over markers of the brave,
who rest within the grave.

In gardens of stone, our flag is flown
in vigil of red, white, and blue,
for those who loved their country true.

In gardens of stone, a family moan
for husbands and sons lost in death,
whispered names on their breath.

In gardens of stone, in every war zone
our soldiers lie far from home,
our sailors ’neath the rolling foam.

In gardens of stone, we speak in hushed tone
out of respect for those who died,
who are laid to rest side-by-side.

In gardens of stone, names of men unknown
died for you and for me,
died—to keep us free.

I invite you to follow me on Twitter @derrickjeter.

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3 Responses to In Gardens of Stone

  1. knight says:

    Just finished a documentary on WWII perfect time to read this poem, thanks!

  2. Areader says:

    This website is still displaying questionable content at the top line. I emailed you about this before. I doubt that you want the words “kelly webcam tease” showing up at the top of your blog page — but that’s what is showing up.

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