And peach kissed sun beams dance til their last breath,
Our hope does not fly out as summer dies,
But bathes itself in light and conquers death.
The geese come fast to winter on our land,
In hundreds strong to make their voices heard.
They gather now with space to only stand,
The quiet dream at last with millions shared.
With vigour flows our passion once again,
A chorus echoes loud from every field.
United songs sing strong from every pen,
Our movement has its time and shall not yield.
For now the path we seek is lit and clear
As one, we take each step, our prize is near.
No comments:
Post a Comment