THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER

At sometime he must have been someone’s son or brother,
Who was he? What was he like, with grave labelled like no other.
Where did he live? In a big city or in the quiet country side?
Is there noone wondering at all about this man who died?

Someone must have missed him, someone who did care,
How long did they wait wondering why he was not there?
Was he tall and handsome? What rank did he hold?
The medal hanging on the cross tells me he was bold.

I will mourn for you young man, whoever you may be,
For my soldier boy did not come home to be near me,
So as I remember my soldier boy who I loved and have lost,
I’ll weep for you too for freedom you paid the ultimate cost.

M Ann Margetson © March 8, 2001
2001/1166Unknown
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