The Towers Poem by Jack Worthington

Rolling down the road in a silver Ford
I spy on the soldiers along the road
One by one they line in formation, as if a subliminal confirmation
That their precious cargo will reach its destination

They spread their arms through the orange sunlight
Some on mountains, others on plains and valleys
From the dams they came, to make the cities bright
To bring comfort to friend and foe alike, and illuminate the alleys