Statues along a darken path to recall the past,
their names forgotten as well as their deeds,
ages of youth, many guises of gray tell the task,
rain and cold have taken toll, their names calling..
Long ago words of youth has faded from their lips,
no names for the hill tops reached again, again,
no songs pass their lips, only 45's hug from hips,
only family next to all in dirty ditch, their names calling...
There stands these men in bronze, mirroring men of flesh,
to all to recall their duty done, the very best,
refresh our memories if we dare honor their forgotten quest,
faces and places fade into darken past, their names calling..
Forgotten by many remembered by few these young men, then,
blistering heat to bone chilling cold, freedoms pride,
for us who lived will carry images inside, all of them,
none will be forgotten, not now not then, their names calling...
Cold black wall with 10,000 and more to find, in time,
no band of welcome home too, just do and do duty too,
out stretched hand to search again, again, the long lines,
nails, hands bloodied till raw, their names calling...