Echoes of Valor

When dawn broke slow and thin on fields,

Where broken men turned ghosts in mud,

The silence split, and steel revealed

The price of peace through fire and blood.

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In battered towns where shadows spoke,

And ruins whispered stories torn,

They moved through smoke, as hope near broke,

With weary eyes, yet battle-worn.

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Each clash of iron, each rifle's cry,

Lit heavens red with thunder's might.

The wounded earth and burning sky

Held witness to their final fight.

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The roads they crossed were thick with scars—

Once fields of green, now soaked in strife.

The shattered towns, the tarnished stars

Marked every breath, each bargained life.

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Still forward pressed, with grit and bone,

Through ash-choked streets, past wasted land,

While dreams of home and peace alone

Spurred iron hearts, a thin command.

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Their courage lies where poppies grow,

In rows of red through meadows bare,

A memory carved in soil below,

For those who marched and vanished there.

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Let us not forget the cost,

The sacrifice in dawn’s first breath,

That in their loss, no war be lost,

Nor peace won lightly from their death.