Bundled snug in withered wraps,
trembling hands and moon stained faces
turned stone defy night bitter frozen,
haunts them dare they flee.
Down, the toll piled
steadfast, high against them,
hero ghosts come say them stay
their candy cotton statues
‘midst emerald straws and
diamond sparkles tell the spring.
caps turned out, rally beckon,
prayerful hands up high awaving,
begging hope and dreams waft eternal,
least ’til all them nine have played.
~ ~ ~