The Brood

The night is young

The brood is home…

With the city asleep,

We ride till dawn…

 

Day is here for us to fly,

City of ours or so we thought,

A year or two, back it was,

For not today it feels that way,

Home it is but not the same,

For the brood is out and it’s time to leave…

 

A City is not what we see,

People that live are what we feel,

Once so high and mighty we were,

A City in south, was our pride,

Broken and hollow, it rings in side,

For the brood is out and it’s time to leave…

 

Threads that tie our hearts in sew,

The one we all, call for stew,

The thread goes long, not to break,

For strong it grows as we fly,

A now so familiar, sight to see,

For the brood is out and it’s time to leave…

 

Change is good but hard to bear,

Attachments are wrong, or so she told,

Bonds are what that makes life sweet,

Ends of the world we might live,

Somethings hold with the want of will,

For without my brood, it will never be the same…