They bend like trees in winter, Shuffling, old gray lions. Though - TopicsExpress

They bend like trees in winter, Shuffling, old gray lions. Though what scars gather, Like the belt around Orion. Just a touch of faded lightning, Around a powerful design. Of a generation gathered, For maybe the last time. Come up, dust them off, Let them shine. The ones that hold onto the ones, They had to leave behind. Those that flew, those that fell, The ones that had to stay. Beneath the little wooden cross, Oceans away. Oceans away, Where the green grass sways. And cool wind blows, Across the shadows of their face. Shoulder to shoulder, Back in the day, Sleeping bones rest in the earth.

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