You’re with us still, your names engraved in stone,
?Inscribed in bronze, recited every May.
?Fresh flowers”mums, carnations, roses”say
?The pain’s still fresh: our grieving’s never done.
?Your serried graveyard markers”though you’re gone”
?Compel reflection on Memorial Day.
?Our sculptors’ art preserves your mortal clay:
?Each marble image conjures flesh and bone.
We’ve promised that we’ll always keep you here,
?But memories etched in rock must disappear:
?The steles raised to keep you in our sight
?All fall to dust beneath the centuries’ might.
?Time mocks us when we swear your fame must live:
?We feign a gift that only God can give.
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