by Ruth Marie Brown

Our son carried the flag, today,
And I felt so dog-gone proud!
My husband stood at attention,
I laughed and cried out loud.

He marched at the head of his Boy Scout Troop,
This gangly, half-grown youth,
Little did we realize
How close we were to the truth.

Too soon, he went away to school,
and I don't mean to brag,
But the very first letter he sent home
Said, "They let me carry the Flag!"

Then, with all the others,
Our son went to war.
They sent him home in a casket,
Like they did so many more.

They didn't call it war, this time,
They called it a "confrontation".
But knowing that he died "confronting"
Gives us little consolation.

Yes, our son carried the flag, today
And I really did feel proud.
My husband stood in sorrow,
And I mourned, and wept aloud.