The wind brushes the tree branches away from its face,
Whistling softly as it works,
The lake shakes,
The leaves wake,
From their slumber,
The sky washes the ground.
They lay,
Hugging each other,
Their uniforms scream into the silence,
Their weapons lay defenceless,
Natures debris rains softly,
Onto their bodies.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 7:01 PM UTC
The wind brushes the tree branches away from its face,
Whistling softly as it works,
The lake shakes,
The leaves wake,
From their slumber,
The sky washes the ground.
They lay,
Hugging each other,
Their uniforms scream into the silence,
Their weapons lay defenceless,
Natures debris rains softly,
Onto their bodies.