Old Glory

I saw the reflection of this beautiful Lady in the green glass of this window. The flag and its colors looked distorted because of the color and imperfections in the glass. It made me think of the many trials America has gone through since 9/11.
OLD GLORY
Original Poem By Howard Schnauber

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.

I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident.
I am arrogant.
I am proud.
When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher, my colors a little truer.

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshiped I am saluted.
I am loved I am revered.
I am respected and I am feared.

I have fought in every battle of every war
for more than 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg,
Shiloh and Appomattox.

I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome
and the beaches of Normandy, Guam.
Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me, I was there.

I led my troops,
I was dirty, battle-tested and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.

America has been attacked by cowardly fanatics
And many lives have been lost
But those who would destroy me cannot win
For I am the symbol of freedom,
Of one nation
Under God
Indivisible
With liberty and justice for all.

I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible.

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle it hurts.
But I shall overcome for I am strong.

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms
of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud.

MY NAME IS OLD GLORY
LONG MAY I WAVE

[Jann]

Really nice reflection shot.

[PJinIA]

This is really a striking image and even more moving after reading the poem!! :)

[Robin Tucker]

Reflections are one of my favorite this....really like it

[Skip Tribby - ​🖖]

@jannkc - @pj - @binski : Thank you very much Jann, Paula and Robin, Having had the opportunity to server under her I have fond feelings for her and what she stands for.