Anthony W. Pahl


… and the muffled drums beat mournful sounds
as slow marchers lock their knees
and the strain upon their legs and backs
is masked so none can see

… and the tears of the so few mourners
create rainbows ‘neath the trees
and soften the harsh mid morning light
as drumbeats echo in the breeze

… and the cadence of the drums and feet
resound in the saddened hearts
of the mourning kith and kinfolk
who heard the drumbeat start

… and the bugler stands apart and plays
the Last Post – a call to sleep.
The strains of death’s tune herald in
another hero’s soul to keep

… and volleys, seven by three report
the passing of a hero’s soul
to the fortress gates that none can storm
and where tales of peace are told

… and the mourners turn to one another
to seek solace in their pain;
and the reality of the one they loved
is reformed in honour’s name