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Fifty names marked time’s inexorable march down through the years
In that cool wooded corner, as we listened there were tears
Of sad remembrance as they were called out there, one by one,
While we recalled those times when we were all so very young.
The dappled shade amid this circle of surrounding trees
Helped cool the sun’s fierce glare, and with a passing, gentle breeze,
We stood, as bugle’s call, so poignant, sounded the ‘Last Post’,
And Pipes, a sad lament, then faded from the listening host.
And yet, a sense of some completeness came that they’d returned
To be applauded by their friends, those that they loved, and earned
This final accolade of a good life, lived fair and true,
According to those values we had learned as years ensued.
So as our voices lifted through those trees in songs of praise,
It may be that they heard and smiled in their celestial space,
And joined in spirit with all those of us who still remain,
Until that time when we will be reunited once again.