While the soldier drifted down the Indus River,
Like a forgotten memoir,
But he shall walk back again
through the ashy woods,
Where the thin trees
Are tainted, tainted
By the flames of war
The winter soldier,
The cold ripples it's hair,
Even between heroes and villians,
The mist of freedom hides on top,
Of the fire mountains
Only i am listening to the mother's cry,
I brought my courage, hopefulness and smile,
But everything has gone by,
Mother nature is hiding her beauty today,
Like a silent women in her thick parka,
Perhaps next year we will be better,
Beautiful summer, calming winter,
But the sea is growing weary,
Of the humanitarian endeavors.
- Soldier (April 20th 21)
