Saying your good-byes, waving a flag
a flag stained with barbeque sauce and tears
torn and covered with an ugly patch
making it old, dead,
like you wish they weren't.
Because, even now, years later,
saying your good-byes, waving your old, dusty flag,
filled with memories,
you remember them; they aren't forgotten,
their memories hover out of sight, just behind your eyes,
and nobody will notice.
It doesn't go away,
you remember until you lose,
and every single life you find
you see it goes away
and that loss stays.
I remember yesterday
it hurt just like today
I remember when they were gone
it hurts less,
but it doesn't go away.
Saying your good-byes, waving that ruined flag,
holding out your memories like an offering of peace,
clinging to each precious reminder of the ones you loved,
calling a truce with God,
blaming you, blaming others,
Remembering how they looked when they died.
Say your good-byes, wave the ancient flag,
because this loss is not the last,
it goes on and on, until you want to scream,
and then it will be you,
who watches them
wave their flags, say their good-byes.
They'll say their good-byes, wave those silly flags,
tears in their eyes, say good-bye,
say good-bye as it's your turn to leave,
and you'll cry too, if only because you know
it doesn't go away.