Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any profit off of Twilight. It belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment, etc. Streets of Laredo belongs to Johnny Cash, etc.
A/N: A very short one-shot I couldn't get out of my head, inspired from Streets of Laredo sung by Johnny Cash.
In The Green Valley
They walked across the dry land by noontide, six firm soldiers walking alongside and six tearful ladies throwing bunches of roses to the dirt as they passed before. Clad all in black, the family passed behind, no eyes to greet them and no sounds to reach them.
Sad, weary, gray. This was the mother, her shoulders shaking and her tears swift.
Hard, faithless, lost. This was the father, his hands clenched and his teeth gritted.
Firm, bitter, cold. This was the sister, her face lifeless and her eyes hard.
They beat the drum slowly as the bearers marched onward. The marching was dead, a life sent away. They played the horn mournfully as the coffin was laid. The sod was lain over, a blanket of goodbyes. The cowboy they loved was gone.
Down in the green valley they laid his coffin, roses thrown over and bluebonnets grown around. They didn't know what took him, but honor was given. A soldier was gone. A hero was lost. And a letter was preserved.
I cannot know what waits for us out in this wasteland. Life is destroyed here in the barren sand. And I am afraid.
Not for me. My name will pass on like so much dust in the swirling wind. But I fear for the country I love. What does this war offer?
As I live the dream of my brothers-at-arms, I see the pointless deaths and lose faith in my cause. My strength is waning, my comrades are dying, and my hope is weakening.
But I love you all. And against all logic, it is that which holds me firm to my duty.
If I should die before I see you again, don't mention my name in pride or grief. Let it pass on in simple memory of a soldier who did his duty for the ones he loved.
All my love I give to you.
His name was not spoken. Pride was not voiced and grief was not wailed. The hot sun set and the streets grew cold.
The cowboy they loved was gone.
His marker stood unhindered by time. In the midst of a green valley and blue blossoms, stands a bush of yellow roses.
-The End-