Soldiers Rest
This mound of earth, now greened o'er;
Such a small plot for his large spirit.
We all come to this small space,
Or else are set free in the playful air
By those left to mourn our passing.
The small deeds of the anonymous,
Are by history soon forgotten;
Yet upon these backs great deeds were done.
Yet those who gaze down history's path,
They only see bright luminaries;
Not this simple soul who lies here now.
Beneath this bright daisy sprinkled lawn
Neath a stone that bears no name
Crumbling and grey with age
And soon to tumble into dust.
poem by Paul Brookes
Added by Poetry Lover
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