Battlefields And Foxholes

 

Memorial Day, football, and my favorite easy chair.

No better way to spend the day. Free from every care.

My favorite team was playing. They hadn’t yet been beat.

My faithful dog was curled up, and lying at my feet.

The game was now in half time, and my mind was in a bliss.

“How can life”, I ask myself,” be better than all this”?

As I sat there, in contentment, into a sleep I fell,.

A dream took me to a place I thought just might be hell.

I was kneeling in a foxhole. Bombs were bursting in the air.

Two soldiers were beside me, but couldn’t see me there.

One of them was wounded, and withering in pain.

His buddy tried to help him, but his efforts were in vain.

He said, “I know I’ll die here,. I’ve been shot up pretty bad.

If you make it give a message to my mom and to my dad.

Tell them that I love them, and I love my country too.

I die proudly knowing I did all that I could do”

I knew he sensed my presence, when his and my eyes met

His dying words were meant for me., “Please do not forget”.

My tears began to fall as I sat in anguish there,

when a voice out of heaven broke the silence in the air.

“I brought you here to understand the meaning of this day.

And to show you the hefty cost for freedom some must pay.”

It was then, my eyes were opened and I came to understand;

I’ve never shown respect to these hero’s of our land.

I awoke and happily found myself back in my easy chair.

Grateful for the dream that so wisely took me there.

I fell upon my knees in prayer and thanked the Lord above

for those who fought and died, to protect this land I love.

The brave are not on football fields, or on a pitchers mound.

Battlefields and foxholes are where heroes can be found.

 

Ron Tranmer©