Faye Sizemore

A CENTURY AND A HALF AGO

Wind moves through the trees…
A soft Dogwood scented breeze
Birds scavenge for nest material
Fog wafts along the hills, ethereal
Peace and tranquility now abide
Where once the soldiers did stride

This quiet was once shattered by their guns
Through these fields to where the river runs
Soldiers fought their very own kin
Each one having thoughts to win
Fighting to stay above the sod…
Their hardships known only to God

Civil War… That cold -hearted wench…
Gave no sympathy – not even one pinch
The soldiers who fought for the North…
In memorial we will count their worth
… And those who fought for the South
With bowed head and mournful mouth…