In measured steps he makes in rounds.
The click of heels the only sounds.
He stands erect so straight and tall,
With pride and dedication responds to the call.
With deep affection his vigil keeps,
Over those who forever sleep.
He responds not to the visitors stare,
Maintaining his vigil as if in silent prayer.
In the morning’s twilight hours,
His watch becomes like cathedral towers.
Reaching from earth to heaven above,
A lasting tribute to one man’s love.
As time and seasons come and go,
His vigil remains for all to know.
That beneath the sacred Arlington sod,
Lies three buddies KNOWN BUT TO GOD.
(Dedicated to my cousin, SSG John Gallagher, US Army Special Forces,
killed in action January 5, 1968, Republic of Vietnam,
and to the men who guard the Tombs of the Unknowns.)