In fields where grass once freely swayed,
Now lies the ash of dreams decayed.
The silent night, a darkened veil,
Hides whispers of a world that failed.

The thunder of the cannons’ roar,
Marks the land forevermore.
A mother’s cry, a soldier’s plea,
Lost in the void of what could be.

Beneath the sky of crimson hue,
The tears of loss, like morning dew.
Each drop a story left untold,
Of hearts grown weary, spirits cold.

And so the shadows dance and play,
In the aftermath of a fateful day.
A symphony of sorrow sung,
In the echoes of a war begun.