Poetry

Do not forget my dears,
Do not forget the tears,
Remember the men of old,
The men who were brash and bold.

Do not forget, little ones,
the men who went to war,
the things they heard,
and the things they saw

Do not forget the blood and pain
Do not forget the wounded and insane
For they are the wise ones my child
Men who know that war is wild

Do not forget, my angels,
Do not forget the demons of Hell,
They come to earth to start up war
To kill and wound and yell.

Theirs are the voices of battle,
The guns that crack and rattle
They appear before dying men to taunt
To offer but never give the thing they want

So my child, do not forget
That war is cruel and unkind
It took your daddy, who was not ready yet
And my father too, who I never met.

There are others as well
Who's fathers fell,
And this is why, my dears,
Why we should not forget the tears.

For war is brutal and un-fair
All for rulers with fine clothes to wear
The mud of battle is too much for them
Diplomatic visits only for the ruling class gem.

The real gold of course,
Is in you and me my dear,
Your father and mine had it too,
We are the treasure, as long as we stay near

We hope for peace beyond this earth
For a place filled with joy and mirth
With no more tears
And a God who hears

This is our hope my child,
But in the meanwhile we will not forget
So as to avoid war so wild
Yes, my child we will not forget.