Loose Change (R/P)
He broke a dollar, mix of change
One early Monday morn’
Donned his hat and headed out
To visit friends, alone
On foliage guarded pathways
Decorated, sun-kissed miles
He reminisced their days of old
How innocent their smiles
Solemnly, he neared them
In silence, they reposed
Breezes of their shadows
Bristled by as his hair rose
A penny here, a penny there
Each grave he passed, respects
Six cents left, he recollects
Their vow, sworn, to protect
His change began to dwindle
As thoughts chilled through his bones
Drawing nearer to the grave
That bore his best friend’s stone
Tears filled his eyes, saluting,
With metallic-scented hand
Honoring the man he’d known
From bootcamp to his end
It wasn’t much, he pondered
Watching rays bounce off the token
But in the forty-one cents left
Lay all his words, unspoken
*****
Tokens left at gravestones, dating back to the Roman Empire, are a means of showing respect. This piece today, “Loose Change”, is my humble attempt to show my respect to all those who’ve served our country with the ultimate sacrifice of their lives. In honor of you and with prayers for the grieving loved ones that you’ve left behind.