The boots have made their prints in the sand
Only to be blown away by the wind;
But the prints made upon lives
Will never be forgotten.
The pants are worn thin from laying on the desert sand
Protecting freedoms and fighting for liberty;
But they also are worn from kneeling down
To comfort a young child in a war-filled country.
The jacket is torn and tattered, snagged by barbed wire in a hasty retreat,
Escaping the enemy's gunfire and explosives.
It reminds him of his torn and tattered heart,
As he thinks of his family back home.
The armor is damaged by gunfire,
A sign that it has done its job.
He wishes it could protect his heart
As well as his body.
The helmet is secured,
Protecting his head.
It also shields the sun
Beating upon him as he works
The boots now lay empty,
The pants and jacket carefully folded.
The helmet rests on top,
A sobering sign of the ultimate price
Written in honor of military personnel across the world who fight for their countries and in memory of those who have paid the ultimate price.
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