Flags In

A re-post from last year, but always appropriate…

Awakened Words

Each stone is cleaned to as white
as the passage of time allows.

Each flag is precisely placed,
a soldier’s boot the measurement.

Each fallen hero receives a salute
from one who understands.

Each Old Guard member considers
participation an honor, not a task.

Each year more tears irrigate
the fields of Arlington.

Each year more flags are needed
than the years before.

View original post

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s