Thirteen Stripes Poem by MICHAEL VILANOVA

thirteen stripes flying high in the sky
hear them whipping in the wind
i wonder why they make grown men cry
roaring winds cant even make thier colors blend
too thier credit they bend and straighten out
ever watched them seems like they are dancing
effortlessly among the clouds rejoice and shout
nothing more could be so enchanting
beautiful stripes repenting a nations courage
even if the red ones seems to become darker
everyone should watch them dance like its a privilege
roaring winds dancing stripes lets all become partakers
Stripes that might bend but never blend