Posted by
Roxanna M. on Friday, July 04, 2008 10:54:27 AM
I watched the flag pass by one day,
it fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
and then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
so young, so tall, so proud.
With haircut square and eyes alert,
a standout in the crowd.
I thought how many men like him
had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil.
How many mother's tears.
How many pilots' planes shot down.
How many died at sea.
How many foxholes soldiers' graves.
No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night,
when everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play
and felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
that Taps had meant "Amen".
When a flag had draped a coffin
of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
of the mothers and the wives,
of father, sons, and husbands
with interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
at the bottom of the sea.
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.
------------------------------
I have no idea who wrote this wonderful poem. If I did, I would surely give them credit. I received it by e-mail from one of my friends. It is more than worthy to be re-printed here on this day.