The stories are many
they cast a tale of times past
when the soldiers walked
the soft earth beneath their feet
the tree framed in beauty from the window
times not forgotten
how they leaned upon it
looking for strength to go on
a house where the comforts of food and drink were available
a porch to rest
someone to look out for them
rank had no meaning
for this place was a sanctuary for those that needed comfort
do not come on your horse
do not think you are better than those around you
your soul is no different
we all hurt
we are all tired
we all crave the fight for righteousness
we all believe
what? says the man who looks to his left or right and does not know whom he fights with
he has lost his soul
the vision is gone
never forget the one who is beside you daily giving his life for yours
man has in his heart to do what is right even if it is his life he must give
Ancestors now
the fight goes on
the soil just different that's all
the lives still lost
the comforts still missed
perused over carelessly
the tree still stands
the house maintained
lovingly cared for
adapted; practical
the porch still used for summertime bliss
spring nights of soft rain
and a ghost or two mingling
for preservation
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