We sang, for we were born to sing:
The five of us, at home;
For harmony was quite the thing,
And music, polychrome

In wintertime, the carols flew,
The images, as well:
Each story, be they stretched, or true,
Delivered on the tell

Yet fierce the moments sometimes, though –
Like winter wind that’s blowing —
We grew the way we had to grow,
Then went where we were going

But music stayed: a dancing fire
Lighting up the cold,
In melodies of innocence
And echoes for the old

And though the veil comes down for some
And soon will claim the rest,
I’m grateful that I had the chance,
And that I can attest

To music and to harmony,
To love that lingers late,
And all that makes us who we are:
Our legacy
And fate