Whispers of the Soul

Military

Taps in the Distance

The trumpet's soft call breaks the quiet air,
A melody whispered, a soldier's farewell prayer.
Each note drifts gently, like tears in the breeze,
A hymn for the fallen, a moment to seize.

Taps in the distance, haunting and low,
Echoes through valleys where wildflowers grow.
The sound reaches hearts, where memories reside,
Of battles once fought, of brothers who died.

With hands at salute and eyes cast in grief,
We stand in the silence, seeking some brief relief.
For the life that was given, for the price that was paid,
In the folds of the flag, their legacy is laid.

Each note is a promise, a vow we repeat,
To remember the sacrifice, the life left incomplete.
Though they've gone from this earth, their spirit remains,
In the hearts of the living, their courage sustains.

The bugler plays softly, as day fades to night,
A tribute to those who now rest in the light.
Taps in the distance, carried on winds,
A farewell that lingers, where loss never ends.

Yet in every soft echo, a resolve starts to form,
To honor their duty through both peace and storm.
For they gave us their all, with bravery untold,
And in our remembrance, their stories unfold.

So as taps fades to silence, we bow in respect,
To those who stood tall, without fear or regret.
In the stillness, we swear—forever, we'll care,
And the sound of taps will echo our prayer.