This is just a short drabble I wrote forever ago. The poem is mine and mine alone. The characters I used do not belong to me.
Ironhide would never be considered sentimental. He was gruff and tough and proud of it. But as he stared at the body of his fallen leader, he couldn't help but feel emotional. But he wasn't good at expressing his feelings to others. Forms of Cybertronian expression were beautiful and elegant, great ballads or symphonies were used to honor the dead. However, he was no artist, and no matter what he created he couldn't give Optimus the honor he deserved.
So as they drove back towards the base, Optimus' body following by helicopter, he accessed the human "internet." He searched for a human way to express his grief, after all his leader had died protecting the humans so it was in a way fitting.
His research lead him to monuments, songs, and poetry. So using his knowledge of the human language he began to create a poem
The poem he completed was rough, but he felt it honored Optimus and his impact on their lives. As he read over his work before he sent the comm out into the universe he couldn't help but think he may have been resonating with Jazz and the others who had fallen and now were now one.
Ratchet would have cried if he could as Ironhide's voice came over the comm;
{For Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots;
To Whom It May Concern
To Whom It May Concern, when he passes through this way,
Tell him sir that all of us have a little bit to say.
Johnny says to thank him for sitting with his wife,
After she learned he'd been killed fighting in this strife.
And David says to thank him for holding his hand,
As his last breath lead him into another land.
And let him know we miss him,
but that it was for the best.
To Whom It May Concern, tell the Captain he's not like the rest,
And that we didn't want to leave him, and we know he gave his best.
And To Whom It May Concern, thought there's blood upon his hands,
Our Captain Sir, in soul's a saint.
And we can't wait to meet again.
So tell him not to listen to those who say he's bad,
And tell him not to worry as he holds that soldier's hand.
And tell him sir to come on home,
As down there the Taps do play.
Because we're waiting here to greet him,
As he comes up through the rain.
Until all are one.}
Sitting in the belly of the plane, Ratchet wanted to turn to Ironhide. He wanted to say something, anything. He cursed the humans that had them strapped down, safety procautions his aft. He was a healer! He should be helping his comrade. But he couldn't, not now. All he could do was save the poem to memory and await the chance they could grieve together.
For now, Sam needed them and they had a battle to fight.
^L^...(what do you think?)