The days are steps
and life a tunnel,
time cement
that pours in slowly;

with each breath
the quiet struggle
not to turn
and lose the race.

Songs are seasons
still returning,
held in palms
and whispered lowly;

helps the heart
to sail in darkness,
feeds the soul
a bit of grace.

Though I cannot
weep beside you
(mem’ry’s not
to be reached in),

tall smooth statue,
still i see you,
lovely you will
always be;

but I must go
always forward,
fearing time
will pour on me.