Written by: jeffry cohan

                  A BLAND OLD FLAG

August was the eleventh month of a torrid affair
In September me and the miss were kissing
The end of September was difficult to bare
When suddenly the miss went missing

I believed every promise and every vow
The hope that bespoke of a future grand
But then was then and now is now
And now beauty seems so bland

She spoke of tomorrow in a wondrous way
And the Christmas we would finally share
I heard all the words she had to say
but then I heard what destiny would declare

Perpetuity ebbed away in a callous manner
Without so much as an appropriate farewell
No waving flag, and no appropriate banner
Only a sign designed in the depths of hell
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