I wear a yellow rose
In honored memories sweet repose
A rose among lifeís thorns I suppose
To herald a cruel life, cruel captorís compose
Shed now for brothers a tortured tear,
Fathers and sons missing lo many a year,
Fate of our prisoners of war my heart sear.
May my yellow rose
Hope in failing hearts enclose
For lost comrades hearts still rack
Till they find their way to glory back,
Reborn to a motherland of milk and honey,
Reborn to a future no longer bleak, but sunny
Reborn to a land to brave men forsaken
The very essence of freedom taken.
In memory forever I wear the yellow rose,
Envisioning fellow warriors pitiable pose.
Long may we hold sweet memory of Prisoners Of War
Tightly to our bosom
Americaís sons deserving freedoms chosen.
Wear a yellow rose in blessed vigil,
Till the stories close,
Bring an end of cruel sentence, cruel captorís impose.
Oh God, let sons and brothers at last come home
Let a final chapter come in their book of war tome.
For lives in rancorous servitude atone,
Let them not die from loved ones alone.
Give them healing vision of the yellow rose
Clutched tightly in memories compose
Till it leads them to their beloved land
A land above all others chose.
Let itís shining light guide the way back
From cruel oppressors recurring attack.
Give them strength their captors to overcome,
To escape lives darkning glum.
For I see them there across the forever sea,
Hoping we will see.
Ease troubled minds condemned by abandonment numb,
Let our boys return to a fair mother lands womb.
Let he who served with honor at his nationís behest,
Gave a legacy, a brave warrior's bequest.
Be restored to his land of liberty
Reap a righteously earned victory.
Forever waiting now are our brothers, just for me...
Welcome my son, our finest and best,
Welcome father you've passed God's greatest test,
Welcome home my brother to a final rest.
Will they honor our legacy,
Or think our fight a travesty?
Will they answer the call
Be willing in innocence to give their all?
Will they follow in a warriorís footstep,
Fight the latest in a series of wars-to-end-all-wars
That through history creep.
Repeat our misstep
Battles fought and won through tragedy,
Battlefields shining bright with our blood gory
A glorious page in our nationís story?
Will they schlep a gun or tote a mortar,
Worship at the Godís of war altar?
Or will they from our folly learn the sense of peace,
Godís true way,
That hatreds disputations might forever cease.