Journal 19

I went out to the middle of the street,
The shadow of the flag over my feet.
I searched all around to find the true source,
But I could not find it, no matter the force.

Looked back at my feet, and my eyes darted down,
Then I noticed a dark shade on the ground.
My eyes followed  it, looked down to its base,
They followed it more, stared at the flag's face.

As I watched the wind make waves in the flag,
I remembered those who died in Iraq.
So many battles we've claimed since that war,
Yet we forget what shook us to the core.

So many lives we will never forget,
So many people I never have met.
We are so grateful to all of those men,
To read their story, written in black pen.

These thoughts were present as I watched that flag.
I never gazed down, or checked in my bag.
The street cars passed by as I stared it down,
I never realized whats left in this town.

I did try to find where my thoughts took root,
My hand seemed to end up in a salute.
For those who have died, I shed one last tear.
Remembering those who's songs I won't hear.