I crest the hill with dogs in tow
And look out on a desert scene;
A winding road runs to my left
The river on my right.
I see him then, alone on the road.
He is strong and full of purpose;
My eye drifts back toward the bridge
His pursuers coming hard.
From my perch I see for miles
The throngs that follow on;
A ribbon of feet and heads
A millipede of humanity.
I descend the hill for a closer view,
Of all this sweating crowd;
The puffing train that chugs uphill,
Moving on and on and on.
All shapes and sizes, every race
And creed, united in their effort.
To honor courage and sacrifice
And the last full measure of devotion.
Dotted here and there among the crowd
A number catches my eye,
They wear it here to honor him,
Paying homage to his strength.
Some carry flags while others walk,
Or wear the colors of his team,
Which he forsook for freedom’s call
To protect us one and all.
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Comments about this poem ('42'-Pat's Run by Jeffrey Stultz )
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