Friday, July 1, 2016

Ode To A Piece of Cloth

Shot full of holes, ragged and frayed
Red parts vibrant, its white parts grayed
Starfield faded, its stars can’t be counted
Ropes worn to threads from each battle mounted
What new was starch now flies away dust
What shone bright metal, now oxidized rust
Always moving, winds east and west
South wind silent, North winds at rest
Flying half high for a random assortment
Of enemies fighting to save their comportment
Pledged to by millions, hearts covered with hands
Deaf to the words, not one understands
Still for a moment, it rests as wind shifts
Still with a purpose known, battered it lifts
Until taken down, mended and bleached
And returned to service, its summit yet reached.