Fallen Field

A poem I wrote - still in progress.

Barren field now
all that once was
is no more.

A whispering silence
on the quiet land.
Blood, sweat, tears,
engulfing grass.

Lying all about
men of worthy pride
savor last breaths.

Smoke rises
flames slowly die
like the creators
of their spark.

Envisions of battle
fill the mind
savage combat
finally ceasing.

Reality returns
as the green grass grows
nothing resting
upon the ground.

Shining sun
illuminating the ground
of the lost soldiers.