The aged warrior stands proud,
Her eyes flash over the battlefield;
Scarred hands gripping the stone abutments
As she observes the carnage below.
The years passing filled with honour and duty
But for the images of butchery and devastation
That still haunt her slumber;
Life as a destroyer staining her soul.
Watching as the battle runs its course,
The outcome a foregone conclusion,
She closes her weary eyes
And breathes redemption as she
Feels the warmth of green and gold as
They wash death's toil away.