Alan L. Winters

BENEATH THE ROWS OF POLISHED STONE

Beneath the rows of polished stone
The soldier’s last repose.
But shed no tear for them I ask
For through the hail of shot and shell,
Know that they all stood as one
Until the last one fell.
Feel the pride that swelled inside
As battle lines were drawn.
Hail the men who lived and died
For the warriors all live on.
And here upon these fields I stand,
Alive but not alone.
And now, again, I salute you friends
As you sleep ‘neath rows of stone.