One hundred thousand new stars; are born in the sky,
Now that they have parted, we try not to cry,
As for them, and for us, we now have to look ahead,
Else it won’t just be our bodies; that will end up dead.
Millions of tiny glasses, we will sip from with hope,
To clear away infestation, to make our potent soap,
There’s a shine in the horizon, that will come to us soon,
Like a bluebell in the meadow, in late spring it will bloom.
So, keep a tight hold on to those hopes and dreams,
For we are surely owed our swim in much cleaner streams,
But after we are cleansed, and our lives begin again,
Make sure via good action, that we don’t re-write this pain.