Hand in hand ~ walk the paths        
meander in the fields of burnt hay      
wilst that path lead to the spring        
ever bubbling,
with the joy of heat in summer.        
Will the path meander
down to the vale        
expressions of joy
a butterflies wings.        

The Monarch has come
preening Himself.        

will the rays of the Sun hasten
the light of the night      
cloaking in splendour~        

Pressures build then,    
when can another know
the cry that resounds deep within        
break free:
rend asunder all that the other is      
  and stands for
A simple Man ~      unlike any other
where is Trust
and whither Honour      

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