The Bugler Poem by Edwina Reizer

The Bugler

Rating: 5.0


The bugler must be a sad, sad man
For he’s a reminder of death.
He places his lips on the rim of the cup
And blows his sad, sad breath.
Called upon to perform his duty
When another son has died.
Dressed in military finery
He stands quietly with pride.

His notes drifting into the air
Have made the listeners pause.
The tones have ascended.
The body is below.
Was it for a just cause?
When the bugler’s taps is played
And the day is done
There’s a different reminder for our ears,
The descent of the falling sun.

Perhaps the bugler can reconcile his job
With the start of a brand new day.
As the tones of reveille sound the morn
His sadness passes away.

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Edwina Reizer

Edwina Reizer

LAKEWOOD, NJ
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