• An awkward teenage hand holds the shining metal at arms length,

    Proudly it displays his name and age.

    It is the touch of a kid, just a kid, going to war.

    But he is not afraid for he knows

    All heroes go to heaven.



    A calloused thumb caresses gently over the metal inscribed name,

    Indicating the identity of the neck from which it hung.

    It is the hand of a mother tracing the hollow outline of her son.

    But she is comforted to know

    All heroes go to heaven.



    A tear drops rolling across the metal carved characters,

    It is the name of the boy who proudly wore it.

    They are the tears of a wife and her unborn son over the father he'll never know.

    But she knows they will meet again because

    All heroes go to heaven.



    A tiny fist clenched tightly over the now rusting piece of history,

    The ghostly figures of a man long since dead.

    It is the hand of a grandson, during the minute of silence.

    Standing proudly for he knows..

    All heroes go to Heaven.