Those Lilies of the field they bloom no more,
yet even still, they're beauty remains,
and my memories do slowly dull,
those of you that used to live.
Stories from the past,
they have become dust,
I've swept them into piles
that now reside in the corner of my mind.
See there, just beyond the door,
a fire burned in the hearth,
it flames now and again,
for a moment,
leaving me with a taste of long ago.....
How bitter sweet the awakenings,
those pains not desired but required,
and so I sit,
here in the shadows,
awaiting the brush of an endless wind,
whispering to me,
that once we were....
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