One of my first poems

This poem was written as an expression of a place and time and represents much more as I find that colors bleed and flags need states or a union.  I captured my own feelings and as the years pass and I reexamine it, the more I see the simplicity of it all.  I still feel the freedom it gives me to read it and would change the structure if I could keep the feeling in tact.  Its questionable. 

A Ghostly Flag

Pure as soft cotton growing under a hot sun. 
Cotton as white as luminous, billowy clouds floating above. 
Stretched into thread as white as fresh fallen snow. 
A white flag is born.

A flag with no colors, no emblems, no country to call its own. 
Opposing winds tatter and tear the banner to its fringes. 
Surrender becomes a situation that cannot be won. 
A plain white flag is waved.

Sanguinary blood splatters as it rises to cease fire. 
Cerulean teardrops stain descending down like ink on paper. 
A bleeding pennant remains on the battlefield. 
A flag is reincarnated.

Now an emblem no longer pure or white. 
Strong winds dispatch the flag to fly home. 
Resurrected spirit no longer surrendered. 
An unarmored flag has won.