THAT DAY AT GETTYSBURG
The date was 1863, at Gettysburg
This day, I stand upon the quiet field
Now all is silent,
All eyes upon the purpose here.
It was a fragile moment
In a meadow lost in thought
And then the words were spoken
With care and watchful heart.
His words became the paint brush
As it gently left its mark
This is the object of our care
These are the words of our hearts.
I stand upon the threshold of the future
I hold in my hand the decree
It is a paper thin and crisp
The writing old and frail
My fingers gently touch the fold
Amidst the quiet day.