It flutters in the spring air revealing honor. The color red represents the blood bloom from those who fell, those who clawed, those who cried in horrible pain. Those who died fast. And, those who died ever so slowly. They did their duty. When I see the flag waving on a sunny, end of May day, the pigment red gushes from millions of souls, floating, not with us, anymore. They are amongst our heroes, cajoling with angels with their champions, conquerors and commanders. Friends and loved ones gather, over the rave, witness to those who gave more than anyone should be required to relinquish. When the moment harshly struck them their fatal blow, they cried alone.
1900's picture from an old photo album I have, and this poem was stuck behind the pic~ I love this pic~
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