All of us have seen photos of tulip fields, vibrant colors stretching for miles
No need to see those in the flesh to experience their stunning hues
And we can picture poppy fields from the famous poem
No need to walk among them to observe the way they blow
What we have to witness live are those crosses planted row on row
No photographs or movies of American cemeteries we’ve seen before
Can substitute for standing silently among them in the flesh
These thousands of markers for those who never came home
These monuments are perennials in the truest sense
Blooming for eternity in their bedded place
A tragic reminder of how these dead gave everything
And how giving up their all has earned them honor here
So although there are no tulip fields of dazzling color
And no poppy fields sway as they blow in the wind
We bear firsthand witness of the enormous price paid
To the porter who opened this war’s gateway to the grave
Lanning Lee 