Old soldier, My soldier
They’re saying you lost this battle

It’s time to pass the gun
Arm your sons now
You’ve always shown them how
To follow Me in battle

Old soldier, My soldier
Come for your medals
The world’s not worthy of you anymore

They’re saying you lost this battle,
But soldier, My soldier
You won!

The war was fought long ago
Before your sons
Before your birth
Before the stars
I won it
And every war that counted
I won that,
You won it too

When your sister has cancer, things can get rough. By rough, I mean chaotic.
My pasture is my only place of solitude. I like to get away from the fighting of my siblings, Anna and Markus, the crying of my mother and the once happy and fun father.
So I sit, leaning against the oak tree and watch the Hepplington's horse graze with her foal stuck like glue to her side. The pasture is mine, even if it isn't my family's.