The Names On The Wall Poem by John F. McCullagh
The Names On The Wall
They're your uncles or your brothers;
They're the ones who fought and bled.
Theirs are the names upon this wall,
the legion of our dead.
They didn't run to Canada
when they heard their country call.
They ran toward the sound of guns;
All through the Sixties did they fall.
So spare a moment at the wall,
Peruse their names incused.
Long Summers past, they were like us,
with so much more to lose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 2:36:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
