We sit upon these fallen trees;
Pondering our fate.
A bright future, we foresee;
Tainted with past mistakes.
We shall work as one.
Amalgamating our strengths.
The struggle is done.
We have won.
No more guns.
Lost no sons.
Not undone.
Seen the sun.
It has passed;
But we must hold fast.
To our love.
To our dove.
To an everlasting friendship.
Alfred F. Jones
