I watched the flag pass by one day. It fluttered in the breeze. A young Marine saluted it, And then he stood at ease. I looked at him in uniform So young, so tall, so proud, With hair cut square and eyes alert He'd stand out in any crowd. I thought how many men like him Had fallen through the years. How many died on foreign soil? How many mothers' tears? How many pilots' planes shot down? How many died at sea? How many foxholes were soldiers' graves? No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of taps one night, When everything was still I listened to the bugler play And felt a sudden chill. I wondered just how many times That taps had meant "Amen," When a flag had draped a coffin Of a brother or a friend. I thought of all the children, Of the mothers and the wives, Of fathers, sons and husbands With interrupted lives. I thought about a graveyard At the bottom of the sea Of unmarked graves in Arlington. No, freedom isn't free.
Thank you to those still suffering loss of loved ones on our behalf.
Do your best to avoid circular arguments, as it will help you reason better, because better reasoning is often a result of avoiding circular arguments.
What a great image. Really like the flag in the background on the obverse. I served two tours one in Vietnam and the other in the Persian Gulf apart of the 82nd Airborn division. God bless this country.
Who those that served and served well I salute you. Thank you. MJ
Walker Proof Digital Album Fellas, leave the tight pants to the ladies. If I can count the coins in your pockets you better use them to call a tailor. Stay thirsty my friends......
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Every American should witness the changing of the guard once in their life.
Changing of of the guard
<< <i>Our remembrance and appreciation.
>>
I watched the flag pass by one day.
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert
He'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of taps one night,
When everything was still
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That taps had meant "Amen,"
When a flag had draped a coffin
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.
I knew it would happen.
Thank you to those still suffering loss of loved ones on our behalf.
Fellas, leave the tight pants to the ladies. If I can count the coins in your pockets you better use them to call a tailor. Stay thirsty my friends......