In a quiet corner of the cemetery,
Few stood as the priest spoke kind words
About an old man who wasn't known
Yet, sat in church, the daughter by his side,
Oblivious to the order of service.

Taps sounds over a sailor's grave.
As chills wrap my body in a silken cocoon,
Guards of honor ritualistically fold the Flag
A triangle of stars on a sea of blue,
Reverently held in white-gloved hands.


This symbol of America solemnly laid
In his daughter's trembling hands
As tears form in the corner of her eyes,
Steadfast never breaking his cardinal rule
The watery drops recede, never to fall.