2 thoughts on “bleak autumn evening

  1. I mourned for a soldier that I played TAPS for at his funeral. I used a trumpet, not a bugle. I wondered how it would sound. I sat behind a curtain and played alone…just as the solder was when he died. I am not a poet but was compelled to put my feelings to words.

    The Bugler

    Strong feelings from a bugler told,
    a tune being played of old.
    Dispatch the warrior O so bold,
    commitment fully been bestowed.
    The song, the words fervently penned
    expecting an impending end.
    Honor them, stately and proud.
    In Memorium, the bugler blares.
    Vigil ongoing, silent stare,
    the price so dearly paid.
    Play the tune, hold the note.
    Draw another breath.
    O band of one, a lonely tone.
    Forshadowing something grand.
    Duty is done, last battle won,
    Is this reality all so stinging?
    Beloved, honorable, taps complete.
    God’s rest, eternal, victory replete.

    Frank Williamson

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