A path of perfection that victory earned,
A war fought so long and in time we have learned.
That a prize so desired, is not what we craved,
It's not the win that is sweet, but the warriors brave.
That at the end of the day, we lay cold and alone,
While the brave hold those dearest safe in their homes.
The wind will still blow and attempt to destroy,
All we have built, and all that holds joy.
Some of us battle this fight with great ease,
And some of us stumble and end up on our knees.
But while the sun sets in an orange tinted sky,
We all want the brave to hold us while we cry.