Tattered Flag
By Cheryl Huston

A soldier home on leave one day
Walked through a garden of stones,
He was looking for a name on them
Of a soldier he had known.
On one fresh grave he stopped and stared
At a plain brown paper bag,
And when he looked inside of it
He found a tattered flag.
Laid neatly there beside the flag
He found a folded note,
It was from that soldier’s lonely wife
And this is what she wrote,
“I hung this flag the day you left
And I vowed that it would fly,
Every day that you were gone
And so many days went by.
The summer winds blew hard on it
And the edges soon were frayed,
Then winter’s blast whipped it fast,
But flying high it stayed.
As you served on that flag flew on
And it began to show real wear,
As time went on you still were gone,
And the stripes began to tear.
And now I have a new flag,
It’s folded with three sides.
The honor guard gave it to me
I held it close and cried.
So I’m leaving you this tattered flag,
Here beside your stone,
It flew just like I promised
Its job is done, you’re home.”
The soldier put the woman’s note
Back inside the paper bag,
And then he snapped a smart salute
To that tattered, faded flag.
He placed the flag back beside the stone
In that plain brown paper bag,
Those who fight know the price
Of every tattered flag.