A quiet, solemn voice passed over the fallen leaves,
creating an unusual high pitched whistle.
The sound could be heard from all over the land,
and it entranced many of the listeners.

At first, all that could be heard was a single pitch,
no variant could be made out.
Then a slow, intense melody could be made out.
It painted a picture of a farm somewhere in France.

The melodic etude's tempo soon raced with urgency.
The yelps of young children and women could be heard,
covered up with the melancholic sounds of gunfire
being gunned through the dreadful, gray air.

The deep drumming of the bass and low brass
signified sounds of heavy artillery colliding with the earthen ground.
The rapid succession of chords and key changes
slowed the scene down to almost a standstill.

And almost as fast as it had begun,
it ended with a somber, low pitched note.
The whistling from the leaves discontinued,
and the memories of World War II was lost.