In the shadow of the pines, we carve our name, With calloused hands, and hearts aflame. Every stone we turn, every seed we sow, Marks the place where the river of our lives will flow. The morning breaks with chores to tend, Wood to split, the fence to mend. Bread to bake, and fire to feed, Simple truths that life will heed. Every lost tool, every broken wheel, Taught us patience, and how to feel. We stumble, we rise, the lessons remain, Etched in the soil, and burned in the grain. Not forgotten, the hands that made a home, Not forgotten, the paths we walked alone. Every small thing, every daily fight, Guided us forward, into the light. Water to fetch, a child to raise, A storm to weather, the nights to blaze. Letters from far, news of a land unknown, The seeds of a nation quietly sown. Lessons learned in sweat and tears, Moments treasured through the years. Every mistake, every hand extended, Every trial faced, and every vow defended. Not forgotten, the hands that made a home, Not forgotten, the paths we walked alone. Every small thing, every daily fight, Guided us forward, into the light. In the quiet of night, the fire burns low, Stories whispered, things we’ll always know. Names and faces, the lives that remain, Not forgotten, carried through joy and pain. Not forgotten, the hands that made a home, Not forgotten, the paths we walked alone. Every small thing, every daily fight, Guided us forward, into the light.
