Recall the men of front,
Tis time to love,
Set thy soul free,
Why suppose to be,
Actuals has gone, no return,
Long distance way,
From south beach to red bay,
So lightly, fly and soft, as does, the hay.
In wind, call by whispering,
Let breeze deliver thy calling.
From now on, till the end day,
Thee be an excuse, hay,
Faire battre mon coeur.
©sepanta
S