Tartan swirls.
Hope rises.
Eyes shine.

Lads dream.
One piper.
Notes climb.
Edinburgh waits.

Pipes call.
In night.
Pride grows.
Echoes linger.
Ramparts glow.

Crowds hush.
Air stills.
Lone figure.
Legacy begins.
Sky listens.

By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)

My memories of a lone piper rising against the night, his notes curling through tartan air as Edinburgh holds its breath and a legacy stirs awake. Your heart stays gripped in time for ever.