Forgotten Soilder

I dreamed one man stood agaisnt a thousand,
One man damned as a hard-headed fool.
One year and another he walked the dusty streets,
And a thousand shrugs and grunts met him,
Met him in the shoulders and the mouths he passed.

He died alone,
So alone only the Undertaker came to his funeral.

Flowers grow over his grave swaying in the wind,
And over the graves of the thousands that were slain too.
The flowers grow, swaying in the wind.

Flowers and the wind,
Flowers swaying, gentle breeze passing over the graves.
Petals of red,
Leaves of yellow,
Streaks of white,
Masses of purple sagging.....

I love you and your great way of forgetting.