Today I’ll be the daughter
of my favorite Legionnaire .
I’ll stand beside his marker
to place a flag and poppy there.
I’ll scarce have time to whisper
my thanks, my love, a prayer
’ere my heart begins its pleading
to step away from there.
For down the rows, around the bend
a widow’s duty falls to me.
Another flag, another tear
I miss him too, you see.
What time o’clock my visit
to thank two soldiers gone to Heaven?
Prescribed long ago, before my youth . . . .