When Steam was power, it drove the titans that worked the field. They hiss and rumble, the heart of rural toil.
A summer fete where machines of old do trundle. The oil and soot fills noses, the memory of era gone.
A mother loves defies, the bond unbreakable. To be loved and love in return is a gift from eternity.
To build machines that last, to drive us all to betterment.
The giant wheels of progress past.
Steam, it fills the air. The heat is life and breath it does.
The music plays and children squeal as gravity plays her games.
Respect to those that move us, we travel through histories trail.
The land is filled with life, before the seeds are sown.
Machines that fight for freedoms peace.
A memory of times, to wander and reflect.
Peace is held by guns of freedom.