Stand where shadows bend and fall, and hear the whispers through the hall.
No trumpet calls, no crowd in view, just silence holding something true.
A hand raised slow, a glance withdrawn, a memory of a vanished dawn.
The weight of deeds, both lost and done, rests in the chest of everyone.
No cheers remain, no banners fly, yet honor hums beneath the sky. A life remembered in soft breath,
A quiet grace that meets with death.
Though time may fade the face we knew, its courage lingers, steady, true.
The heart recalls each hidden fight, each sacrifice unseen by light.
And as the evening folds its shade, I give the salute that need not fade. In stillness, pride and sorrow meet, a quiet tribute, strong and sweet.
