Felt Poem by John Kipling Lewis

Unmortored brick wall,
ivy pushing block from
crack, there we hid and
played.

Our secret fort,
twice invaded.

Once by a girl.
Once by jealousy.

Two decades pass and the
fortress remains, the invasions
destroying our esprit de corps.

I fold our hand sewn felt flag
and lay it upon your grave,
formally as my military
training has taught me.

I salute you properly,
as I would another soldier.

While you waited back here,
did I hope I would simply die?