By Scott Bailey © 2014
Sod the camouflage
Be resplendent in the sun
Flutter high and shine
The thistle embraced the wilting rose
Joined the lands as one
Wars still rumbled across hill and plain
Dividing faith from faith
The stewards who ascended high
Would rise and fall and rise
Held heads so high they thought divine
Then tumbled to the ground
Sons of the island lost to war
The people scarred and tired
One form of tyrant sent to death
Another imposed dark law
Return and rise the stewards house
Shaky on the seat
Look to longingly to the holy see
The thistle withered away
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
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