You’re with us still, your names engraved in stone,
Inscribed in bronze, recited every May.
Fresh flowers”mums, carnations, roses”say
The pain’s still fresh: our grieving’s never done.
Your serried graveyard markers”though you’re gone”
Compel reflection on Memorial Day.
Our sculptors’ art preserves your mortal clay:
Each marble image conjures flesh and bone.
We’ve promised that we’ll always keep you here,
But memories etched in rock must disappear:
The steles raised to keep you in our sight
All fall to dust beneath the centuries’ might.
Time mocks us when we swear your fame must live:
We feign a gift that only God can give.
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