They carved his name into the cold marble wall,
They hung his picture so proudly in the hall.
The folded flag from his burying day,
His mother gently caressed, then safely packed away.
His shiny boots are silent, no longer echoing in the hall,
Their steps silenced, by that final call.
His badge now rests near his old teddy bear,
With his baseball glove, and some silky strands of baby hair.
He traded his badge for a pair of angel wings,
The screams of a siren for the songs that angels sing.
He rests in the hand of God, warmed by heaven’s light,
Watched over by angels, through God’s eternal night.
