Freedom Is Not Free by Kelly Strong
I
watched the flag pass by one day.
It
fluttered in the breeze.
A
young Marine saluted it,
and
then he stood at ease.
I
looked at him in uniform
So
young, so tall, so proud,
He'd
stand out in any crowd.
I
thought how many men like him
Had
fallen through the years.
How
many died on foreign soil?
How
many mothers' tears?
How
many pilots' planes shot down?
How
many died at sea?
How
many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No,
freedom isn't free.
I
heard the sound of TAPS one night,
When
everything was still
I
listened to the bugler play
And
felt a sudden chill.
I
wondered just how many times
That
TAPS had meant "Amen,"
When
a flag had draped a coffin
Of
a brother or a friend.
I
thought of all the children,
Of
the mothers and the wives,
Of
fathers, sons and husbands
With
interrupted lives.
I
thought about a graveyard
At
the bottom of the sea
Of
unmarked graves in Arlington.
No,
freedom isn't free.
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