Poetree

Shadowed Trooper

The crescent moon wooed the clouds,

And with thunder they complained.

And tiny drops from nature's heart,

It felt so, as it rained.

The old man walked his shabby way,

Deep through the firs and pines.

War had snatched his friends away,

Lost somewhere, guarding the lines.

He had a scar on her forehead,

One he earned with pride.

And marched to the campfire of dead,

Where a thousand stories reside.

The tall trees shaded dry, their old camping space;

He sat there with a rare smile, that now sparkled his face;

Decades long and battles through they stood toe to toe,

Their emerged a timeless brotherhood , but them none could know.

Nights were spend at the posts, while the city slept;

And all their lives exhausted by, the promises that they kept.

With patriotic eyes the brave men gambled with their life,

Sacrificing their souls for the cause, that hundreds could survive.

His generian ears still resonated the roaring of the tanks,

And his eyes watered for his beloved friend, slaughtered at the banks.

War had left him desolate, and greeted his friends with death;

And for all those unknown faces, they selflessly donated breath.

The fables spoke red of love but martyrdom too was red,

Of love one is broken but of the latter a man is dead.

Candles and prayers soon faded and noone remembered the way,

A leonine man rose to fall so his men could see another day.

For hours and hours he sat there

And remembered his friends with ease.

He wondered when he would join them there,

And cursed his late release.

The world never knew their tragic tale, 

And their excellence at war.

Now the veteran general saw,

Their smiles mock his scar.