Freedom is Not Free

By Major Kelly Strong

I watched the flag pass by one day,

it fluttered in the breeze.

A young man in uniform saluted it,

and then he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform--

so young, so tall, so proud.

With hair cut square and eyes alert,

he'd stand out in the crowd.

I thought how many men like him had

fallen through the Years?

How many died on foreign soil?

How many mothers' tears?

How many pilot's planes shot down?

How many died at sea?

How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?

No, freedom is not free.

I heard the sound of taps one night,

when everything was still.

I listened to the bugler play and felt

a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times that taps

had meant "Amen".

When a flag had draped a coffin

of a brother or a friend.

 I thought of all the children,

of mothers and the wives,

Of fathers, sons and husbands,

with interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard at the bottom

of the sea,

Of unmarked graves in Arlington

No, freedom is not free.

THANK A VETERAN ON NOVEMBER 11