The Medal

On this celebrated day of the year,
Morning crowds, they gather to cheer.
Amidst the drums' and trumpets' roar
And an eager face in uniform.
His name called out as though,
He was but a glorious hero!
And someone supposedly important
With a half fake smile, shaking his hand,
Puts up these metallic suns on him.
On his shirt pocket, held by a pin.
Piercing and beading away some lives;
Death toll adding to his style.


(c) Kundo Yumnam 23-11-09