(an old man’s memory)

In the back
Of a little café
A café they call Musain
These boys,
Yes they were still boys,
Planned a way to build their dream
Together always
Through anything
That was what I heard
The revolution
Would be soon
So said a little bird
Lamarque’s death
It lit the fire
But that fire was quickly smothered
The students fell
Poor children indeed
Never again to be mothered
I may be mistaken
It is after all
An old man’s memory
But I know for certain
The way they fought
All for one -- Liberty