Faye Sizemore

THE PROCESSION

I beheld a flag
and in the wind… it did wave
colors of white, blue, and red.
Oh, and the bodies it did crave
were now stacked with the dead
Their faces were young and brave
… and not even one… could I save
I saw a procession and its cars were black
Stony faced… the drivers never looked back
I heard a song and fought my urge
… to give way to tears
for the song I heard was a dirge…