Strange summers, sometimes, heavily imbued

With music of uncertain pitch, have come

As we have laboured in the luxury of sun’s

Enabling light, to see the cloud turn air to gold

To other, silver – such a one is now.

Wrapped in our works and endless love

Committing all in hope and faith

As we do in these twisting weeks 

We only can hold hands and kiss

As always we have done and laugh

At changing lights and differing strains

And come through yet again. 

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