Loose Change

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. Today, we honor you and pray for the grieving loved ones that you’ve left behind.