For years the keepers and watchers of the sacred line drawn in the sand.
Silent sentinels, watching eyes,
deep beneath the sea, remote mountains high.
Guardians of the silent command,
keepers of the promise, lines drawn in the sand.
A slap in the face or a favor called in,
a few silent sentinels,pop silk in the wind.
Frozen feet, wind weary eyes,
for years these guardians protected the night.
No roll out parade welcomed them home,
most folks didn’t even know that they were gone.
Solitary greeters of the knock on their door,
a brief condolence and nothing more.
Depended on for everything that peace may exist,
If mission compromise, no one knew about this.
Yes, Cold War Veterans, your job was well done,
welcome Brothers and Sisters, each and every one.
Freedom never was Free!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!