The lightning strikes, and the thunder rolls,

The crane stands tall, a silent sentinel,
Against the stormy sky, a silhouette,
A beacon in the darkness, a sign,
Of progress, and memories that align.

The lightning strikes, and the thunder rolls,
As the rain beats down, on the crane it pours,
And in the light of the storm, I see,
Memories of the past, that used to be.

I remember the days, when I was young,
And the crane, it was just a dream begun,
A symbol of hope, and the future ahead,
A sign that one day, we’ll all be fed.

But as the years went by, and the crane grew tall,
The memories they came, one and all,
Of the times we’ve had, and the times we’ve lost,
And the love that still remains, at any cost.

And so I stand here, in the rain,
And watch the crane, as it remains,
A beacon of hope, and a sign of the past,
A reminder of memories that forever will last.

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