25

twenty five
and not a moment sooner
nor later
when the words long lost began to sing

a song of thought and reminisce
under the crying skies of grey
years gone by like the falling rain

gone?
perhaps, but lost within thier folds
a treasury, a bounty
of heaven sent presents
in shapes of joy, love, hope

a mixture of pain and trouble
seems to overwhelm,
the colors of weakness, weariness
almost too dark

but thus make these precious drops of light
shine ever more
as stars
on the deepest of night.