A Prayer for Bostonians
The spring sun shines,
As the finish line signs,
Visitors, compatriots,
A day of the patriots,
At 4 hours 9 and 43 seconds
A flash in the corner and noise they do beckon,
Fall down to the ground,
All muffled are sounds,
The shrieking the blood and the masses of tears,
Ran right to your help left behind all their fears,
So scared and so scarred,
For your life no regard,
But to them we do say,
No this wasn't your day,
Because together we rise,
'Cos our kindness flies high.
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