by Danny P. Barbare

In the blurry windows, memories of two
men and triangle of red,
White and blue, a flag brought
Under the shade of the porch
As if an extra thread to be sewn
In his memory
Clear as the screen door
He’s hung on grandparents’
Wall for years. The door is shut.
The house now rented,
But the fig bush still grows and
The hydrangeas are still very much alive.