Poetry


The Cool Kentucky Rain
Under the cool Kentucky rain, 
Turtledoves cooed and Robbins sang.
As we gathered all, to say goodbye, 
Be strong you’d said, I could not cry. 

Under the cool Kentucky rain, 
The Pastor spoke of all you’d gain. 
No… not of what we had all lost,
For the little ones, such a high cost. 

Under the cool Kentucky rain,
The Bugler blew Taps with no refrain.
While tears of anger filled my eyes,
Clinching my fists I looked to the sky. 

Under the cool Kentucky rain,
Seven rifles fired again, again and again.
And as they folded the red, white and blue
Still I… I could not cry for you.

Under the cool Kentucky rain,
The cool Kentucky rain,
The cool Kentucky rain,


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