The Fallen Patriot

A lone man places a bouquet beside a gravestone. The gravestone has no name, only the words "In memory of a patriot who saved the world."

The old man knelt gently, his joints ached with every degree of bend and his tired bones screamed in pain but he ignored it all. A soldier pushes through, a solider gives everything he has to the cause, even after the War has been lost.

Each year, the old man assembles a bouquet fitting for a true patriot. He always starts with a pink rose to embody the friendship they had. He then follows suit with a yellow rose to embrace the zeal of his fallen friend. Finally, simple in look but ever important in symbolism, he adds a single white carnation for remembrance. The old man nurtures each and every rose on his own, spending as much time as the most avid of flower connoisseurs. And for what you ask?

For a true patriot and for a world changing idea that would take another four centuries to reincarnate. For his friend that paid the ultimate sacrifice and did so without complaining. Thinking of others is all the thinking he did, there was no room for any selfish motive or ego.

As the old man lifted his head up towards the sky, he got lost in the stars above. His hands trembled as he reflected, each flower bud shook within his frail grip. He gently lowered his head down to the gravestone and wept for his loss.

He wept for the world and for those that will never know this great patriot.

He wept for posterity and for all of those that died for the cause.

He wept for the flag that is buried deep beneath his knees, the flag that means nothing now.

It once saved the world but never again.

© 2017 NewWriterOldWorld

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brinda

The basic difference between love and admiration is the former is out of our control and the latter is very much within it.Your story spells admiration,admiration of an old man for a stranger for the selfless service that he provided for his country.A very beautiful piece.