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Twas on a battlefield sorely won
I chanced upon a majestic sight
My optics strained by reflected sun
To view my foe from the prior night.
Stood two hundred hands above the trees
An easy thirty thousand tons or more
Their greatest technological feat
A terrible, powerful, machine of war.
Its armor shined with silvered brilliance
Enforced with rings of polished gold
Cannons raised in noble defiance
An image bright, though its core was cold.
Emblazoned upon its turrets so proud
A Melconian Eagle its wings spread wide
From their warlords a gift in glory enshroud
Proven in battle their skills well applied.
What legends of valor this clan must tell
Of fathers and forefathers by the night fire
Singing their ballads as their flag fell
Remembering their victories as they retire.
I passed without stopping, turning away
Pursuing whats left of this vanquished clan
I asked would I want such brilliant array
Perhaps golden rings and platinum band?
Not a rocket was launched before it was seen
Its cannons never a shell did they spend
As its commander pondered what could have been
My hellbores alight its armor did rend.
The battlefield does not often forgive
A red shirt, red cloak, when a bull is around
The soldier unsubtle rarely does live
Little more a target once they are found.
The medals I've earned are all that I need
So I travelled my way brightened in heart
My report spelled out my inglorious deed
All I had done was deface a work of art.
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