It is a sacred place Where statues of memories stand And familiar voices echo from wells Where the wind blows the dandelions To grow the falling stars That I wish upon
If we could take all the tiny impressions And all the memory shards Of the overlooked insignificant moments And put them altogether With the great ones Perhaps a full soul could be made.
The pulse is thready now What once fed life is gone The eyes and mind flit away While the change is sown And nature knows just how To make all else carry on As if it were just a day As if it were never known