Evening has rolled upon us once more,
with busy people cooking in store,
the Italian cuisine made long ago,
but fulfilling from head to toe.
Mother called to me to implore,
that she needed me to go to the store,
To pick up that which we are out,
I nodded, stood, and left the house.
Walking across the many way,
the hours ticking the end of the day,
orangish fire color in the sky,
seems as the day flown by.
Purchasing the sauce we needed,
I started to head on back with what I heeded.
Out the corner of my eye,
The American flag fluttering high.
Knowing of the soldiers that aren't home,
I stood tall and gave them hope,
A passing photographer captured my dilute,
and the next day, in the paper, was titled, The Speghetti-boy Salute.
