The Poem of the Fallen
A pinewood box,
Dressed in red, white, and blue,
Holds a soldier who died for you.
He was only nineteen,
When he was deployed,
He should’ve lived with no danger to avoid.
The morning he died,
He saw our flag,
His reason for serving,
Not so vague.
When his life flashed
Before his eyes,
He could already
Hear his family’s cries.
And as the trumpet
With twenty-one guns to send him away,
Remember him with honor in every way,
And pray for our soldier’s every day.
Dedicated to Spc. Justin Ross and other fallen soldiers – written by Hannah, 6th Grade at Lineville Intermediate School
Copied with speed and gratitude from Blackfive