Giant, white thumbs pierce through the carpet of green, calling out, “Good job!” Well done!”
They stand at attention, marking time with a silent cadence.
On and on they go, a phalanx that refuses to allow those, whose graves they mark, to be forgotten.
Shoulder to shoulder they stand, with a silence that can only be heard with your soul.
Small hands place mementos at the grave of someone they barely remember, if at all.
A Commander returns a Coin to a fallen comrade.