There's a monument outside of town
I go there when the sun goes down
And I listen....
The names upon that granite slab
Are worn and rusted, slightly drab
Still I listen
There's a silence hanging in the air
Hiding the thoughts of those not there
And I listen
I sit upon the steps below
In rain, or sun, and even snow
And I listen
Thirty men remembered here
Though none of them are buried near
So I listen
I've met others beneath this pigeon roost
Whose spirits I have tried to boost
As I listen
I wait to hear them from the grave
The voices of the dead, the brave
And I listen
None has spoken out to me
I know they watch and they see
As I listen
I keep watch throughout the night
I head home when it is daylight
And I listen
During the day there's too much noise
To hear the voices of these boys
But, I listen
So each night as the sun goes down
I venture once more out of town
And I listen
I listen.....
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
There's a monument outside of town
I go there when the sun goes down
And I listen....
The names upon that granite slab
Are worn and rusted, slightly drab
Still I listen
There's a silence hanging in the air
Hiding the thoughts of those not there
And I listen
I sit upon the steps below
In rain, or sun, and even snow
And I listen
Thirty men remembered here
Though none of them are buried near
So I listen
I've met others beneath this pigeon roost
Whose spirits I have tried to boost
As I listen
I wait to hear them from the grave
The voices of the dead, the brave
And I listen
None has spoken out to me
I know they watch and they see
As I listen
I keep watch throughout the night
I head home when it is daylight
And I listen
During the day there's too much noise
To hear the voices of these boys
But, I listen
So each night as the sun goes down
I venture once more out of town
And I listen
I listen.....
Request permission to use this poem