The little girl helped her Daddy put tiny flags on the graves
Each and every one was a solider so very brave
This happened every year without fail
Without question to no avail

Her Father had a habit of whistling softy
As he placed each little flag ever so gently
When the chore was completed you could gaze
Over a sea of red, white and blue in the sun's rays

The little girl knew her Dad was getting older
So she asked Daddy "I know we do this for every solider"
She continued "But who will do it when we are gone?"
He answered with pride "It is a tradition that lives on"

It is true the tradition continues today
Just go to the cemetery on Memorial Day
I was that little girl so many years ago
The gift of freedom our soldier’s did bestow

So when I see the little flags fly in the breeze
I hear his whistle and envision him on his knees
His time had come and he had given full measure
He had left this task for the people he did treasure



© Carol G Oliver

Midi: "Solitude" © Margi Harrell