A young boy runs across a field
Sun shining brightly on his face
His azure eyes reflect the sky
A sky that's coloured like the sea
He runs so swiftly, turns so quick
He pivots, moving like a knight
A voice calls out from far away
His mother calling him to eat.

Older now, his features are much changed
Boyish youth has left him, he looks grim
Dressed for war, he represents his king
Wearing royal blue, he steels himself
Dreams of heroism gone, he fights
Only to survive, but he lacks hope
There's no glory, only blood and gore
In the end, the blue coats are stained red.

Horses gallop about grassy pastures so free
And the veteran watches them, smile on his face
See the painted one? That one's Diablo, he's wild
Scout and Jasmine, now those two're a trustworthy pair
The man hops off the fence as he hears a loud call
His wife's entered her labour, the midwife is there
Thoughts race fast through his head as he runs to the well
Filling buckets with water, he comes to the scene
His first child has been born, it's a strong, healthy boy
With eyes just like his father's, as blue as the sea.

The old man's breath, it rattles in his throat
His kin are near, concern quite evident
There were so many things he meant to tell
But Fate was cruel, he did not have his chance
He strains to speak, his children leaning close
He says he loves them, thanks them for being there
To them, he's more than just a frail old man
He's Father, with his kind yet fierce blue eyes
The strongest, greatest hero that they've known
He slips away and leaves them all alone.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Sarapin, in the year 637 AF.