Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
When we quarrel angels die
Good dreams wither for a while
However, from death angels fly...
Not just because it is the weekend dearest
I feel empowered to promise greater strength
From me to withstand threats, to be the cheeriest...
