![]() THE LAST RIDEA Poem by Betty Hermelee![]() Death of a soldier![]() The flag-draped wooden box slides down a cold, steel ramp the drizzle slightly dampens its vision It is a dark, bleak, early morning my eyes blur, hours of bawling, heaving dried tears on my face and black suit my little ones hold tight looks of fear emanating from their eyes bewildered Soldiers soaking wet, stand like statues never move, no emotion carry out their duty the flag gently folds in perfect form plants in my shaky hands as a gift though I pause to receive whispers of thank you I stand motionless, rigid, timorous I am vacuous, no one stirs me thoughts ramble through my mind why did he go? why him? I am a widow
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7 Reviews Added on April 7, 2020 Last Updated on April 7, 2020 Author![]() Betty HermeleeBlack Mountain, NCAboutMy love of poetry results from my love of art. As a painter I am able to express myself on a canvas. As a poet my words come from my heart, my moods, sometimes sad, mostly upbeat. I like to use vivid .. more..Writing
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