The splinters of a rooftop

Break loose, quietly in the storm

When the guns salute

And rain scalding metal  

~

Yet the pure love of home

Never truly dies

Still alive in the sergeant

The spotter  

The sapper

~

Buckling walls take flight

As dust rising in the night

As armor swarms from the east

To burn black at sunrise

 ~

Yet the memory of home

Wafts gently with the breeze

Guiding worn souls back

Into the caverns underneath

~

The broken shards of home

Will be pieced whole again

When spires chime,

For the white scarred legions

Marching home