Poetry

A man in uniform, all dressed up,
Saved my country and I.
Now we wait to see his fate,
When I see him arrive I cry.

Tears of sorrow streak down my face.
My heros lying-dead!
Tell me now! As I weep!
Where’s God’s redeeming grace?

But then I see it, clear as day,
It’s in the many lives he saved.
Selfishly, I weep some more.
Why did my man have to go to the grave?

Hundreds, thousands, gather now.
His funeral is at hand.
So many people came to thank,
My hero in the ground.