The Eyes Of Age
Music graciously provided by my talented brother Tim
He can’t sing as loud as I can, but he sure can sing pretty
The wind is in pieces,
Blank sheets with colour, flutter.
The lute, silent now,
Once played songs
Of times remembered.
But spring flees,
As it often does,
On the hooves
Of the Autumnal seasons,
Endlessly, and unfettered.
The chair,
Ornate once,
Sits empty now
In the thread bare purple leafened heather.
And missing, now
An opaque, wizened face
Lined in the coarsened textures of leather,
Each crease a fable,
Frayed, as in another winter weathered.
The eyes of age,
Once twinkled and crinkled,
An espial, now
Of tempests lived,
Foretold, and foreshadowed
Come, now,
Angels of death
Come.
This business of life is done now.
We have another one
For your basket of feathers.
Written and composedfor:
Tovli's 'Follow The Dream' phrase
'The Wind is in pieces, blank sheets with colour'
And thank you so much, Tim, for your gift of song.
I just luvs your music.
By Morning Song
© 2008 Morning Song
(All rights reserved)
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