The last of those

It was a marching penitent army,
Who had been ordered and groomed to destroy and crush.
At heart they pitied sometimes only though,
Burning the standing crops of people whom refused to bow,
They ground them to ashes, those plentiful boughs to punish.
Time and again,their chief merely issued orders to be followed without fail,
Perhaps he mated with the beauties while innocents were left half dead ,unslain.
A fresh whiff of breeze started to blow,giving hope and life to dying embers,
It sang a song of love and courage to those who were ready to surrender.
It claimed it would change the Chieftain’s heart ,yes the very non existent one,
Else it accepted that it will bear entire brunt of anger that got directed their way.
It breezed into the Chief’s camp and did not appear for weeks,
The chief had tasted the fruit of chaste surrender that was new to him.
In his lust and later love of love ,it forgot to kill and fight,
He matured and greyed too in his new found wisdom of late.
One day the breezing beauty came out ready to leave,
The chief was aghast at him being left without any chances of reprieve.
He begged for to stay but she was an ice-maiden who refused to listen,
Till the Chief pardoned all he had captured and to apologise to all left hurt.
The love won its path and everything cordoned off was let loose and set free,,
And she breathed her last breath,she became the shady gulmohar tree.