Dear Steve
Whenever I just think of towers
I hear the wind
Relearn its song
Somewhere the clock just lost its powers
When nights just felt
Really long
What are those faint lines on the shadows,
A chair still waits,
The tools still lie,
Silence just hums beyond the meadows,
Of work well done,
Of reasons why.
What are those clouds that paint the skies,
They break, they burn,
Then form again,
The dusk breathes low where courage lies,
Of quiet flame,
Of steadfast men.
What are those whispers past the willows,
They call, they fade,
Then breathe again,
The night recalls its tender fellows,
In unseen fields,
Beyond our ken.
