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21 GUNS
September 17, 2014
The trumpets cry out in pain
As I slowly walk down this seemingly endless isle,
The casket lays still and motionless
Mimicking his lifeless body,
My soul being gently torn from my insides with every step I take,
I feel empty and alone as I hug The only thing I have left of him,
This folded flag,
These shots fired,
A true man was lost,
A soldier,
A husband,
The father of an unborn child,
His love everlasting,
His voice herd in every one of these
Twenty-one guns
© Troy W., Kannapolis, NC
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