It's easiest to appreciate simple beauty when you are surrounded by desolation.

Peace had finally settled over the dusty streets, and the small unit of American soldiers let their guns droop, looking up the hill at the kids who had cautiously come out of hiding to wander the streets once more, seeking their friends just as the soldiers reunited with their brothers in arms under a leafy tree. One adorned with freshly bloomed pink flowers.

A soldier smiled as he looked at the plants. Long gone was the time where it had been considered unmanly to like flowers. Pretty pink was a welcome exchange from gory sprays of red. He reached over and delicately plucked a few clusters of flowers from the tree, slipping them into the little pockets of his pack. Little patches of sunshine he could carry with him when they had to leave for the next battle.

A little reminder that something pure could bloom, even out here in the grim and bloody desert.