In the dawn of digital light,
Five minds set forth, their future bright.
A search engine, a marvel new,
An award won, shaped like a shoe.
Golden foot, their trophy grand,
Marked a triumph few could understand.
Twenty-five years, time's relentless march,
Brought them to "The Hills," 'neath heaven's arch.
But faded now, are the days of glory,
Each face etched with life's hard story.
Clutching the foot, a symbol of past,
In its gleam, their shadows are cast.
Tin whistle solo
At the table, memories bitter and sweet,
Of a journey once bold, now incomplete.
Glasses raised, not in joy, but in rue,
To the dreams they chased, but never quite knew.
Ref
Golden foot, their trophy grand,
Marked a triumph few could understand.
Twenty-five years, time's relentless march,
Brought them to "The Hills," 'neath heaven's arch.