Freshly pressed
An antiwar poem
Hanging onto my son,
tears held back,
as he walks out the door.
One last hug and kiss.
Is it the last?
"I'll be fine mom —
don't worry."
Lingering look.
Uniform,
freshly pressed —
dressed to kill.
He'll be fine his wife said,
rubbing her baby bump.
Tears held back —
lingering look.
Knock on the door.
Uniforms and folded flag.
Freshly pressed —
dressed to kill.
This poem made me feel like I was standing there too. A good example of how the right details build the scene in the readers mind.
Gutting