And let the shadows touch your face.
Out here beneath the ancient trees
Let life slip into memories.
Don’t think about a sad good-bye
As time breathes out his final sigh.
Each moment will be prescious now,
Each dream a field beneath time’s plow.
Reach out and slowly gather in
The dreams though they seem frail and thin.
Each one will shine and warm your soul.
Take back what fear and pain control.
© 2012 Pam H. Murray
April 17, 2012
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