The Parade (a poem)

I was thinking of an old Red Skelton routine--the one of an old man at a parade caught up in emotion when the American Flad was carried by--and came up with this.  So, with Independence Day coming up I thought this would be an appropriate piece to share on Gather.  I hope you all have a wonderful July 4th Holiday.  --This is dedicated to those of the armed forces then and now.-- Debra.

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THE PARADE

The air was electric with jubilation.
The crowd was excited with anticipation.
The Mayor was seated upon an open limousine.
A float was carrying a local beauty queen.
A group of Shriners in their tasseled hats
were tossing candy while astride horses' backs.
The Drum Corps marched closely by in line.
So much happening at the same time.

Then, in front of the American Legion I saw
a group of Veterans standing tall,
unmindful of the happy commotion
as the pace seemed to drop to slow motion.
There, with respect on their faces and tears in their eyes
they stood at attention as the Color Guard marched by.
Each with his own memories of losses past,
of sacrifices assuring our Liberty would last.

Of a great-grandfather in the trenches of World War I;
Of World War II claiming lives of fathers, brothers, sons;
Of an uncle killed on a bloody Korean hill;
Of a medic who bound wounds that would never heal;
Of the conflict in Asia for which their service was scorned;
Of twice in the Middle East where many more are mourned;
Of lives and limbs lost over the world;
In the name of Old Glory proudly carried unfurled.

The Flag has passed by and the pace has resumed.
A band steps high playing a Sousa marching tune.
Clowns tumble and skip.  The throng cheers
totally oblivious to what has happened here.
And as the multitude poured into the street
this small band of men remained in their seats,
donned in old uniforms with medals on their chests
reflecting in the Freedom so many have purchased.

db
6/29/08