April 7
A poem by yours truely
It was in the 7th of April
Where 25 girls,
25 Voices,
Come together every midnights
To sing and to laugh.
For over 5 years,
They were leaded first
By a leader whose dreams
soar in the blue sky.
Then came another leader
Whose dreams lie
beyond her tears.
Then she passed her baton
To a younger generation
Who is much ero than anyone else.
Some entered,
And some are gone.
Others lose weight,
Or their temper.
Some have zero home runs,
Or a score of 45.
How many bottles of cider have gone?
How many pies were splattered?
How many boxes flattened?
How many phone calls rejected?
There is a ghost,
A group of leotard-clad ladies
(Who just came out of an Olivia Newton-John MV?),
Gangster ladies in seifukus,
Magical girls holding slippers,
A breakaway rebellious ladies all clad in black,
And two girls whose voices
Can make even an anxious businessman drunk (Shubiduba~!)
They talked about the Bananas,
The Mangoes,
The Mambos,
The Chocolates,
The Holidays,
The Fantasies,
And the Honey Traps.
Yet, their friendship
Was printed
In the albums
Of their hearts.
And, their "Abayo"
Is not a permanent goodbye,
But a hello
To a new tomorrow.
It was in the 7th of April
75 girls,
30 Voices,
9 Generations,
5 years,
Yet, forever
They are queens.
Topic: (Group) Ebisu Muscats (Read 2336476 times)