Late at night here
There is only the
Sound of metal clips
Against a
flagpole.
The breeze makes
Them ting
ting ting
That
seashore soundWhen
the flag is taken down.
I've never seen the flagpole.
It must be over at the old
Folks' home across the
Field from the
barn where
Meg sleeps now and
I cannot.
It is
a lonely sound and
Constant, the sound of
Flags being lowered on
So many
old lives.