THE ROAD TO VICTORY
In a land of
dreams
A little boy
With a stick of
wood
His scrawny arms
They swing to
shoot
In a country
full
Of hopeful
hearts
They stand as
one
In whatever else
They have been
apart
A study in
saffron
Their eager
faces
Their palms of
green
Raised to bless
Their sons of
soil
And with them
They also toil
The winning
stroke
It blazes
through
Victory at last
Has flown to our
boys
On golden wings
Where every
feather
Was perhaps the
stone
From every
little boy
In a very small
lane
When his scrawny
arms
They swung to shoot.
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ReplyDeleteGood one!
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