I see the petals strewn across the red and white.

A soft power’s remembrance, calm might.

 

Beneath the blue lies copper, lie jewels.

It’s kindness and compassion which fuels

This nation, or at least it once did.

 

Or was it all a dream, just a bit?

That we played to justify our spot at the top?

A new world order in which we were the cop?

 

The flowers have wilted, the stars have burst

While in Afghanistan, Iraq, children suffer from thirst.

 

Our own men came back in dark mahogany caskets.

The petals were picked up, there stand the baskets.

 

The eagle hasn’t looked at the olive branch in years.

A flag without flowers symbolizes all my fears.

 

 

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