Silence heard, not a sound,

Leaves not flowing, along the ground.

Sun is shining all around,

Drought not stopping, water not found.

Something is moving up ahead,

Noise is coming, the sound of dread.

Leaves are moving, the sun’s bright red,

Suns just risen, all out of bed.

Running, skipping, jumping, not at home

Moving ever closer, they’re not in Rome.

They have returned, to this great dome,

Children in the playground, they’ve finally come.