Button Poetry

Winter breeze chilling friendly air
Rumbling engines rolling without rest
Guided by rails and, mostly, by prayer
The soldiers with the silver on their chest

Many empty seats, many unclaimed
Too high for many, the price they paid
The bravest and the fiercest, sadly unnamed
Forever in the fields and woods they’ll lay

Some would say they’re lucky, others blessed
Heading east and going home at last
The soldiers with the silver on their chest
And pinned to their coats underneath, the weight of their past

Liberties were taken surrounding this assignment. I figured medals were as good as buttons.

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