The armies begin their conquest of glory


Generals shout, as the masters of war


For the soldiers to march to the quarry


Archers rise up, in hand are their bows


Javelins in front, their spears reared back


Axes sharpened waiting for the enemy


While scouts go forward, ahead of the pack


The rest eat, their daily granary


The scouts return, back to their masters


“they won’t let up, they will stay true


They won’t surrender, they’ve readied stone casters”


The general slammed his fist, which was heard in Tim-buck-too


“men its time to fight, we will not flee,


My children of war its time to play”


All cheered while the general mounted up


He shouted out, “with me!”


Thus all flew into the fray


Swords clashed


Shields clanged


Flesh was slashed


And heads were banged


After days of fighting the battle was won


Bodies were littered about, blood soaked the soil


The soldiers went home, the job was done


The dead were left to boil


Days later as bodies decayed


Out from the earth sprouted the tiniest flower


Its recent endeavor, unfortunately, delayed


But no one was there to see it bloom with power


Today it shows us that even in great darkness


That a tiny light shimmers with much brightness


That with a little faith, magic, and hope


In tough situations we can learn to cope.