There’s a flag flying high
Outside the oldest house
In the neighbourhood.
Lady of the house is
Two years shy of a century
Seen a lot, been through a lot.
She doesn’t mind telling
Locals and strangers
Who pass the time of day with her
‘There’s only one flag
Worth pulling up a pole.
It’s the only flag for me.
Inherited it from my grandfather.
It saw him through
Some dark days.
Gaze at it long enough
You forget all about yourself
And start looking after everyone else
Doesn’t matter who they are.
After the war,
Grandfather’s POWs* came back
To pay their respects when he died.’
*POWs are prisoners of war