One day at the end of an Honor Flight
I paused in the midst of a crowd,
As I saw a man in battle dress
Who stood so straight and proud.

He passed through that group of ancient vets
In search of those honored few
Who'd stormed the shores at Normandy
In the carnage of World War II.

And when he would find a well-worn man
Who had tackled that gruesome chore,
He'd give him a packet of sand he'd brought
From that once embattled shore.

The sand that, years ago, was stained
With the blood of valiant men
Who fought and died for their country's flag
In a world so threatened back then.

And the sand he passed out there that day
Had seen fifty thousand tides
That washed those beaches of blood and gore
Where now you may visit with guides.

And I noticed a man who took that gift
With a withered and trembling hand,
And I sensed his thoughts as his mind went back
To that far and distant land.

For a moment he's back on the shores of France
Where wounded in battle he lies,
And I saw in his face the pain and a trace
Of sorrowful tears in his eyes.

Then I shook the hand of that war torn man,
And I thanked him from deep in my heart,
For the sacrifice that he made for me
That day while doing his part.

Then he placed in my hand that packet of sand
And said when his tears were through,
"My time on this earth is almost up,
So I'm giving this sand to you.

"Don't put it aside in a box someplace
Where it will stay hidden away
'Til it's found in some attic and then thrown out
On some distant and future day."

So I added that sand to an old hour glass
That I keep on the desk in my den,
To honor the battle on Normandy beaches
And soldiers who fought back then.

And now when I turn that old hour glass
And watch the sand as it pours,
There's an extra minute of time in that hour
That I think of those Normandy shores.