The Soldier-Boy's Grave (Revised)

Flowers ’round a fresh grave,
Whispers of the song,
Bells ring loud ‘round the town,
Mourners gather in the nave,
All happiness is clear forgotten,
The sky, not the grave, is the goal, I’ve found.
The preacher gives his finest speech,
Tear ducts open again to leak,
Callers bring their empathy,
Tonight not a single soul sleeps sound.
Broken is the frigid soil,
Where the soldier-boy is laid,
Too far under to be in the toil.
Flowers afresh all around.

Flowers wilting round the grave,
Buried are the whispers of the song,
The dull bells right through the town,
Decreasing mourners in the nave,
Happiness is no longer forgotten,
The sky, not the grave, is the goal, I’ve found.
The preacher gives an empty Sunday speech,
Tear ducts closed, only a lingered desire to leak,
Callers bring their sympathy,
Tonight scarcely a soul isn’t sleeping sound.
Overgrown is the soil,
Where the soldier-boy is laid,
Too far under to be heard, it is said.
Flowers are scarce all around.

Bare is the lonely grave,
Forgotten are the whispers of the song,
The bells are silent ‘round the town,
No mourners in the nave,
Sadness is forgotten,
The sky, not the grave, is the goal, I’ve found.
The preacher is too weak to give his speech,
Tear ducts never more open to leak,
Callers come up empty,
Tonight the world is sleeping sound.
Broken is the stone resting on the soil,
Where the soldier-boy is laid,
Too far under to be heard, it is said.
Bare is the lonely grave all around.

On summer's eve I came wandering,
Near the creek, where the birds sing,
I saw the forgotten grave,
The soldier-boy beneath the broken stone,
I sighed and gave a little wave,
Then I left the soldier-boy all alone.