Creative Traditional:

[Terence]

The moist Virgin’an evening mist
was cold and clammy on my skin
as I stepped softly ‘tween the graves
of gallant souls who laid within.

With reverent humility
I walked along through rank and file
until a bench afforded rest -
if only for a little while.

A bugle blared and shots rang out
as patriots fell to the ground.
One piper led the foreign force
and lent the air an eerie sound.

The battles waged, the canons roared
till freedoms course was truly set
by those who gave their lives for me -
a sacrifice I’ll ne’er forget.

A steady drumbeat brought me back
as daylight drifted into night.
A family was here to mourn
the loss of one who’d no more fight.

They stood there, strong and resolute,
while one more son was laid to rest -
with honor folded in the flag
his mother clasped to her proud chest.

The sky then lit red, white and blue
and as the fireworks died away
a bugle played its last refrain -
saluting Independence Day.