A White Sea of Graves

Beneath the whispering trees, they lie,
In silent rows where poppies bloom,
Their names inscribed against the sky,
In fields that echo with the tomb.

In foreign lands, on distant shores,
Their stories linger, etched in stone,
Brave souls who fought in global wars,
Now rest in peace, their battles done.

White crosses mark the endless sea,
Of dreams cut short, of hopes delayed,
A testament to history,
Where grief and honor are displayed.

In Normandy, where tides still sigh,
On Flanders fields, where petals fall,
In Arlington, where eagles fly,
Their spirits rise; they answer the call.

Each grave; a silent witness stands,
To valor shown in darkest days,
To hearts that strove in far-off lands,
In twilight’s glow, in morning’s rays.

Here lies a youth, a father’s son,
A brother lost, a friend so dear,
Their sacrifice for freedom won,
Resounds through time, forever near.

Let us remember, lest we forget,
The price they paid, the lives they gave,
In war’s cruel grip, in death’s duet,
They found their rest, the brave, the brave.

So when the winds of history blow,
Across these hallowed, sacred grounds,
In every whisper, every glow,
The song of peace and love resounds.