We will reach

Times are moving gently so

Laboured wanderings In dunes of snow

No blade of grass no sparkling streams

Sun lives in mind only in dreams

Few loafs and water just a little

Bourbon bitter in rusty canteen

Wrapped in layers barely enough

Walk is demanding extremely tough

Load of hopes of reaching the end

Of this bleak and harrowing terrain

Back gone sore and legs inflamed

Mind yet refuses to break or bend

Run or walk trudge or crawl

As long as feet on ground do fall

Just need to hold clasp our hands

To reach the warm and sunny land