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Freedom Isn’t Free

I watched the flag pass by one day, it fluttered in the breeze.
A young soldier 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 stood 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 pilots’ planes shot down? How many died at sea?
How many foxholes soldiers’ graves?

 No, freedom isn’t 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 the 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 isn’t free.

(Author unknown)

Enjoy Your Freedom & God Bless Our Troops!

Happy Fourth,




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