We are the children of stone.
Shaped by the pounding, arduous waters that flowed.
Walking over the knotted tussock overgrown,
Under the magpies shadow we roamed.
...
The well-used bashed-in drink bottle perched upon the desk.
Frayed cap in all.
Desleeved it is
Standing naked, tall, mimicking a statue of actual value.
...
Children Of Stone
We are the children of stone.
Shaped by the pounding, arduous waters that flowed.
Walking over the knotted tussock overgrown,
Under the magpies shadow we roamed.
Fending for ourselves, ignored and alone.
We were shaped, sculpted as the rugged stone.
And now that the river has dried,
And what was green, is brown and wilted.
We are shaped once more,
Prepared for the next war.
We stand tall as the mountains.
For we are the children of stone.