Ahead

Beyond the bend of quiet lanes,
Where shadows stretch and daylight wanes,
We lift our eyes to what lies ahead,
A promise stitched in quiet thread.

Each step a measured, steady tread,
Upon the pavement, slightly spread,
The kerb a guide, the lorry's hum,
A low‑drone that sings of things to come.

We realise the road is not a line,
But loops and turns, a soft design,
An organisation of hopes and plans,
A programme laid out, defence in hands,
We analyse each turn, we practise the climb,
Turning every challenge into rhyme.

At the old theatre lights grow dim,
Yet neighbours share a warm‑hearted hymn,
Their humour bright, their favourites true,
A catalogue of dreams they pursue.

So onward we march, with torch in hand,
Through fog and rain, across the land,
The future calls, a quiet cheer,
Reminding us that ahead is near.