March 2

Here’s a monument to the day
war lost. That revered day
when diplomacy conspired
with sheer luck to veer
those who serve back home.

Here. Right here. In verse.
This patch of grass
untouched by marble and granite,
serving the sun. Unconsecrated,
undedicated soil. Dedicated

here. This patch of grass
reserved each spring for clover
to falter in reverse.
Where no one need know
the lives continuing unsevered.

Here. Remembrance.
To the day won.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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