Paths of Glory

Paths of Glory

In twilight’s hush the old cobbles gleam,
their ancient veins of stone lay strewn with dreams—
the lanes that poets dare to trace
when light upon their arches takes the place of grace.

A footstep on the pavement, echoing the clatter
of a lorry’s wheels, a trumpet’s bravado after,
the faint hum of a waiting train,
where stories start, linger, then again.

The field of green, the football pitch—
where the ball is still a sphere of faith,
not just a game but a rite of passage,
each kick a testament to the bold and brash.

Those who tread the line between hope and risk,
who chart a map of arrows on an apple‑green light,
are the ones whose names grow ancient too—
their legacies, inked in gold beneath the sky.

So stand a moment by the stone, you’ll hear,
the whispers of those who braved a thousand leer—
they paved the roads with courage, faith, and fervour,
and their paths of glory now summon the brave.

Let the hymns rise, the banners unfurl—
for any heart that dare, a future’s curl.
In the long‑haul chase of triumph’s glow,
you’ll find that glory’s not a finish line, but the field you sow.