There are two of these flags within the vicinity of my nightly walks.  Someday I hope to work up the courage to ask the owners to share their stories.  Because surely, the black flag has a story of its own.  Until then, I filled in the blanks with my own conjecture.

He fought

and bled for his country.

Moved by

the desire all should be free.

 

He gave

his all and then some more

for a

cause he thought worth fighting for.

 

Now some

scars are hidden from view

not fit

for the eyes of the likes of me and you.

 

But he

bares a little of his soul

with the

two flags he flies on his flag pole.

 

Flag one

is the familiar one we call Old Glory.

Flag two

is the black flag that reveals his story.

 

Thank you

for your greatest sacrifice.

The mark

shows you paid the steepest price.

 

I have

my freedom this very day

while you

fly the flag of the POW/MIA.

© 2018 ck’s days