A breeze
that disappears.
Just like
The uniformed
Army
Guarding a wreath
Of remembrance:
Flight 93,
9...1...1...
The bus kept going,
Passengers guessing
What the army officers
Could possibly be out
In the dragging sun for,
Motionless and focused,
Like the queen's guards.

Good deeds are worthwhile,
But it can take an eternity
To say "mission accomplished."
Walking to a flower shop,
Buying a rose,
Walking tens of steps
Of never-ending sidewalk,
Actually feeling lost.

I never found these people
And the memorial wreath.
I felt I had wasted my time.
Don't tell me to remember
If I know I thought about it.
Maybe frustration
Is the only way I'll learn,
But from here to the grave,
Remember those unsaved.