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Sunday, November 11, 2012

The Price

The price of freedom
One minute of silence
Once a year
For memories we will never have
With the ones we will never know
Bagpipes crying
Coffins draped in cloth
Maple leaf cut in granite
Dust to dust
Last post lingers
An empty spot left
As the planes fly in formation
The flag is folded
Handed over with tears
For memories we will never have
With the ones we will never know




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