I heard his name whispered
Another young man died last week
Tear drops fall silently
And yellow ribbons line the streets. 

A parade of flags and men in fatigues
Salute their fallen comrade’s remains
As the convoy of patriots
Take him home just one last time.

Mothers cry and fathers grieve
A brother lost, a friend deceased
Another name on the TV screen
And yellow ribbons line the street.

I didn't taste the blood, the sun, or the sweat in my eyes
But I still believe
That in some strange way he’s now a part of me
Part of all of us who hang a flag back home.

I held my breath when the ambulance and fire trucks went by
Their lights flashed and their sirens screamed
The man in the camouflage waves good-bye
And as the hearse passed a little boy held up a tiny American flag.

Mothers cry and fathers grieve
A brother lost, a friend deceased
And yellow ribbons line the street.

I may not know the reward or the cost of this war
Or the ones that have ended
Good or bad or bitterly
Some were fought for land or pride
For right or wrong or strait out lies
But every man that ever wore the soldier's uniform
He fought for freedom. 

I may not be well educated
I find luxury over rated
And I don’t always understand what they’re fighting over there for.
But you won’t find me in no protest line
And I’ll hang my head when half-mast flags fly
And shed a tear for a man I never knew
Cause in the end he died for me and you.

He’ll leave behind a mother’s love
A father’s rough but endless hugs
Maybe even a wife and a child or two.

Mothers cry and fathers grieve
A brother lost, a friend deceased
Another name on the TV screen
And yellow ribbons line the street.

I didn't even see his face
I only heard the sound of his name
And witnessed the funeral procession in passing. 

Another young man died last week
An American Soldier will be mourned.

Mothers cry and fathers grieve
A brother lost, a friend deceased
Another name on the TV screen
Yellow ribbons line the street
And yellow ribbons line my street.
 

 

 

 

 

Author Notes

By Amanda M. Burns 
July 2009, was stuck at a stop light during a soldier's funeral procession and ended up in tears.

I was inspired to write this poem. 

© Amanda Saylor nee Burns. All rights reserved