FLAG

FLAG

The red, white, and blue
of your liberty

Bleeds on my loving cup

Like a silver, tarnished sacrifice.

The old glory

Of a once treasured anthem

Waves in the breeze

 To the beat of a different drummer.


If you do not want me,

You can always leave me,

Like the colonists left the British.

Better that than linger grudgingly,

Regretting your lost moments,

Ripping my flag apart.

-Bruce Potts
Revised Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

NOTE: A new poem to you perhaps, but actually an OLD one for me. This goes way back to my junior or senior year in high school, written at the time for someone I had a relationship with in the far reaches of my imagination. I thought it held up rather well so I thought I would toss it on the blog. Besides "Time Lapse", it may be the shortest poem I ever wrote.