In quiet halls where memories dwell,

Each building holds a solemn spell.

A board of faces, framed with grace,

Each one a story time won’t erase.

A 5×7, black and white,

Or color catching morning light.

A name, a rank, a final date,

Yet every life held deeper weight.

They served with honor, boots and pride,

For flag and freedom, side by side.

Through foreign lands and battle’s roar,

They gave their all and asked no more.

They loved with hearts both fierce and kind.

A sweetheart’s touch, a child entwined.

Letters folded, worn and creased,

Moments cherished, wars released.

And when the final bugle calls,

They wait in silence in those halls.

The undertaker’s quiet room,

A hush before the final tomb.

But even there, they’re not alone;

Their stories echo, fully grown.

Not just a photo, not a name,

But lives of service, love, and flame.

So pause before you turn away,

And let their stories gently stay.

For every face upon that wall

Once stood so proud and gave their all.