When love’s bright light is dimmed
like sun obscured by clouds.
Like tapestry worn thin,
a whisper not a shout.
When all we want is reaching out,
yet all we find is fear and doubt.
When love is lost where parents found,
and small usurpers creep around.
T’is then we fight and take up arms
to fight for what is good.
To fight for what we were and are
and all that we still could.
When tiny voice your love usurps
a love that once was mine.
When all the giving out has blurred
And taken off the shine.
’tis then we fight and take up arms
to fight for what was good.
To fight for what we were, and are
To fight for what we could.
Stockholm 2005, copyright Lysanne Sizoo