Authors Note
Special thanks to Walt Whitman
Eyes see so well as others only
hear what is needed to accept
life for what it is a place to
rest comfortably
while our sons
daughters die
for our belief
guilt is heavy
I carry it
poorly

Trouble burns the lantern to end done
Cry with me my son for the war over battle won
Tired and true the pain escapes faith tried exulting
Slowly we walk the road youth taking the heart life daring
Bitter is the winding of the clock taking all own her loving heart
Price of those standing here is the best child standing tall covered in red
When does it cross the river wide like the tales told brave and pure war lies
Sad the eyes in retrospect calling for me to take the burden guilt held for the dead

Pretty the view from the hill overlooking the cemetery  as crosses play the bells
Courage is the answer to the child who asks why the stolen trills
More than all the wilting flowers in the ground call a crowding
Search for time as  meter of love tossed to the grave turning
Beware the loss of life as the wild side of pain cries why
Few see the golden light left as the mind danced a head
Play  life on the piano pulling cards from life's deck
No questions are asked no hope or faith just dead

Many fell as my heart is now very much hurt still
Old times scream in the pain result of my dreaming will
I live once again the favor of my child?'s heart on the mantle done
Willing I carry the water of his life on the line of expectation he won
Challenges leave in the feel of real gifts seen burning up the hills hell's bells
Mask now from the ridges of life drawn free in questions resting voices a lovers bed
From out of the heavens a silhouette of time kissing the clouds all in tribute to his lies
Try to hold me as dust lives in the sands of stars fading across the mantle images now dead