by Robert L. Hinshaw
A solitary tern soars lazily above the sunlit, pristine beach,|
Wheeling on the ocean breezes, emitting its haunting screech.
The glistening sands that were once stained with heroes' blood,
Are now cleansed by the ebb and flow of decades of tidal flood.
The beach that once resounded with the mighty cannon's roar,
Now echoes with the booming surf rushing to the shore.
Where once gallant men stormed that hallowed strand,
Little children now romp and play upon the golden sand.
Tourists enjoy the beauty of the setting sun at the end of day,
And later marvel at the moon's reflection upon the tranquil bay.
For the brave men who held that ravaged beach, day was never done,
They struggled and suffered day and night to see the battle won.
Soothing music now wafts across the peaceful shore,
That years ago reverberated with the frightful sounds of war.
People chat, laugh, love and swirl drinks with tinkling ice,
Never minding the courageous souls who paid the ultimate price.
Alas, valorous men gave there all in those vast Pacific reaches,
On lonely, nameless, bloodied, now serene and hallowed beaches.
Oh, that humankind would somehow ever keep in mind,
The senseless futilty and pain that war leaves behind.
Copyright © 2006 - Robert L. Hinshaw
Published: 3/27/08 · Author's Page · Next Poem