This was written for my friend Steve B.
Remembering the terrible sufferings of the of the poorly equipped Coinfederate troops,

Tennesse, December 1864.

The Cornfield

My heart lies in a cornfield,
Neath stalks, that bend and sway.
The combine thunders high above,
But hears not what I say

He`ll never know the banshee scream
That uttered from this place
Nor feel the pain of men who passed,
With ice, upon their face

Where frozen feet did tramp through here
As one last battle fought
For lack of food, and boots to wear,
Their plight, it was so fraught

Yet here, my heart will always be
Forever, and a day.
To lay with them, my brothers all,
With hearts, all clothed in gray.