A bugle sounds across the field;
The troops snap to attention.
A single soldier, face a shield,
But oh, so full of tension
Now stands alone.
They'll honor him, and shake his hand;
He's served his country well.
His own brigade and marching band,
Have come to bid farewell
To him alone.
His vision dims, and yesteryear
Is vividly revealed.
He hears the cannon, fights the fear
In far-off battlefields.
He feels alone.
Comrades-in-arms go marching by,
The living and the dead.
He reaches out to say goodbye -
They disappear instead.
He's still alone.
He sees the flag before his eyes,
He hears the 'Spangled Banner.
His last salute will symbolize
His military manner.
He weeps alone.
"Pass in Review!" - and others too
Have lumps inside their throat.
He whispers, "Thanks," and bids adieu;
A tear drops to his coat,
But not alone.
"The Army Song", the final gun;
He's stood his last formation.
Retirees stop to say, "Well done,"
And, "Thank you from your nation."
He's NOT alone.
© Lee Basnar 1982
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