THE COLD BLACK GRANITE

It is but a piece of black stone
The shape and size is unknown
It's tall and slender and mirror like
And has names etched on it, all alike
Each piece is shaped differently
High on one edge and the other slopes gently
When they put them all together they form a V
And when viewed from afar is an accepting degree
There are 58,249 names etched in the panels
That stretches from one end to another and forms a mantel
The granite takes on a life of its own
Many personalities and all home-grown
The reflections are evident when you look at the panels
You don't see yourself it's like tuning in a channel
You see the fallen ghosts on the other side
Their numbers match the names alongside
They are all smiling and giving a little wave
As if to say all should be happy and brave
For they gave themselves so we could be free
Never forget them I must make my plea
As I turn to leave, the sun begins to set
The granite gets darker but they are still there, don't fret
The Cold Black Granite

©Copyright April 20, 2007 by Stephen R. Henninger