The halls are echoing old sweet songs,
cascading down like waterfalls;
In dreams and visions that went before,
from the glory days of ancient lore.

Eyes blinking away the melting tears,
while music touches our hopes and fears;
Where memories find a sacred place,
to scatter images no longer erased.

The past sheds light on many reasons,
and carries us all from season to season;
The psyche senses an awkward pause,
within the shell of mankind's walls.

No longer melting in faint disguise,
these moments lapse before our eyes;
As time reflects on what's been gleaned,
from the roller-coaster of life's true meaning.

February snowfall displays its beauty,
in frozen alabaster petals from the sky;
Falling delicately they paint an ornate picture,
which reflects its luminosity from on high.

The winter world spins gently as it weaves,
a glowing tapestry of gossamer angels' flight;
The glory of the heavens speaking volumes,
as the sweeping winds call out to their delight.

Suddenly the steely sky brightens overhead,
as the moon appears and shows its pearly face;
To give honor to the goddess known as Amethyst,
with the crystalline shine of royal purple's trace.

Any moment now deep slumber will arrive,
with the dreams of nightfall and its wintry grace;
Where God's angels warm the spirit in abundance,
and soothe all hearts in a memorable embrace.

Ever since I moved to a different time period, I get the strangest mail.

Letters commissioning Michelangelo
to paint the Sistine Chapel.

Elizabeth Bennet's missive to her aunt
promising pony cart rides at Pemberley.

Long lost IRS tax forms belonging to Abbott and Costello.

Leonardo Da Vinci’s Job Application to the Duke of Milan.

Even Grace Bedell's charming correspondence to Abraham Lincoln, suggesting he grow a beard.

I should have known something was up once I discovered Karl Malone was my mailman.