My sword trembles, shield ready
the battered wasteland set ablaze,
while blood, smoke, and bodies leave a haze,
I think of her to hold my weapon steady,
and the villages, they have burned,
as good memories begin to disappear,
and the smoke clears when she comes near,
and thinking of her is what I've yearned,
yet she walks so calmly over the dead,
leaving me speechless in appearing light,
as my sword drops like a weight of lead,
she comes to tell me to no longer fight;
I have no more enemies to fear,
as my guardian angel will yet again be my light.