by Hugh A Tague
Dust of change fell upon a carpet of rubble
As their big guns pounded her to the street.
It stood proud, this place, amidst the trouble,
Its ruins now piled deep beneath my feet.
The smell of gunpowder hangs in the air,
Devoured by fire, and opened to space.
A hollowed structure left standing there
As a new day’s light shone upon this place;
Where the dreams of those who gave all
Are remembered here for everyone to see.
Memorialized upon these walls:
A place where the brave stood to be free.
Throughout the world liberty’s bell must ring,
The song of freedom in This Place we sing.