A soldiers sorrow

In shadows cast by somber skies,
Where echoes of the battlefield rise,
A tale unfolds of soldiers bold,
Whose hearts, in war, grew tired and cold.

Beneath the moon's melancholy gaze,
They marched through war's relentless maze.
Uniforms stained with years of fears,
Silent cries drowned in the river of years.

On fields where poppies gently weep,
The blood of the fallen soldiers seep.
Each step, a burden of stories untold,
Of youthful dreams in graves now cold.

In trenches deep, where hope is lost,
Echoes linger of a heavy cost.
The battlefield, a canvas of despair,
Painted with anguish, etched with care.

Through misty veils of sorrow's haze,
Soldiers tread in a haunting daze.
Their eyes, once bright with dreams of home,
Now reflect the desolation they roam.

Families wait with bated breath,
For the return of life, not of death.
But some will rest in foreign lands,
In soil not kissed by loving hands.

Oh, the pangs of war's cruel art,
Tearing lives and worlds apart.
A symphony of sorrow, a dirge for the brave,
Whose valor rests in an early grave.

Taps resounds, a mournful tune,
Underneath the pale, grieving moon.
Soldiers sleep, their battles done,
In the arms of a world that mourns as one.