Hero Poem by James McLain

All lonely, gray haired mother's.
So many were the very young these soldiers.
The letter began, then it led me, I know not where.
The letter never right side up, it said.

On behalf of they whom are no more,
your son or daughter.
Then her heart went out, her face went lent.
Her son and daughter,
have not been home since both went separate ways.

You said that on each letter,
that each mother of each soldier would not
be treated in that way.
It is also for the sake of those they ended up that way.

One was hit and being hit, while being hit he saved,
and calmly dying saying, that each calm victory.
Being told this lie and her with the eye of joy.
Old and being meek,
he never went to church her luster shines.

Because his sister is and maybe was, switched every.
And it seems that no one worries that the lonely woman,
whom loads bread upon her wagon would know soon.
However as an exception to the spoken golden rule.
There was not enough to make two loaves,
and at the funeral as I cried, no one even knew.