Richard E. deFreitas

THE FLAG

It’s there when I drive by that house at night.
It’s there in the day time as well.
It’s dirty, it’s torn, and some say it might
fall apart you never can tell.

It hangs from a pole stuck in the front yard.
It’s big and it really stands out.
It snaps and it pops when the wind blows hard:
Annoying without any doubt.

I told the man that lives up the street
“That old flag should be taken down.”
He said those folks who live there are sweet
And explained to me with a frown.

“It’s been in their yard for three long years
and will wave ‘till it can’t no more.
That flag even now can bring them to tears.
And next month three years become four.”

“They like the neighbors who live around here
But would like to be left alone.
Their only child would be thirty next year
But was killed in a Combat Zone.”

“They received a nice United States Flag
When their child was laid to rest.
It flies in the sun and it seems to brag.
Their soldier was one of the best.”

“So the pain they endured-soon as they knew-
not equal to any on earth.
The pride, the sorrow, they must have gone through
will show you what that flag is worth.”

I thanked my neighbor. Went to the store.
And I felt depressed on the way.
So I bought a flag, a pole, nothing more.
Now it flies in my yard every day.