Posted by Pat Little This is a poem that I wrote some years ago. I hope that you will read it and give it, and those young boys, some thought today. The Bugle Boy Who will remember the bugle boy? Who knows the place where he fell? Where he lay alone on the cold wet ground while death played it’s dreadful knell. Who would know of his final thoughts? Who was there at his final breath? Who will have held the young boy’s hand as he faced his lonely death? His bones still lie on a foreign field far from the stone that lists those lost. Who reads the names of those gallant men? Who is left counting the cost? The blood still stains the silent soil that covered the young boy’s face, and a bugle plays through the winds of time where poppies now mark the place. Who will remember the bugle boy; who lived and died too soon? Who grieved the loss of the bugle boy? Who played his final tune? Pat Little 2007
Posted on: Mon, 04 Aug 2014 21:13:44 +0000
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