The old guards are leaving their post. They were the hope of this life They were the salt to this bitter earth Through the dark and covert spinning of the world They were the carolers of light Their trumpets forecasted the coming of each dawn They kept the seeds of hope alive When dust bowl cyclones dried up the soil They kept moving on to greener pastures Somehow, they kept their tight bellies full The greatest generation sentinels of strength Gladiators in wartime ambassadors of peace With sacrifice they won the battles Their women did not give up to despair Their iron hands were never idle They kept the hearth roaring So the Home front wouldn’t fall into enemy hands Together holding on to the dream They weld the sword of peace their flames never Dying underneath their marching feet. Now their days are coming into account The finger of night claws at them as it approaches Chipping away at their weather beaten marble faces With bravery they face the cold bitter wind They know they are leaving They don’t close their eyes gently to death They see it clearly as it hovers like a swarm of crows They stand at their posts fearless and at the ready Till they can only tilt their majestic swords into the sand Till eternity calls all sirens to sleep Till they are little by little ash away Till they are only footprints Leaving a memorial to where they once stood Till their ship of souls oars no more As the drift and dream and sail smoothly Onward forever from this turbulent shore.