IN THE LIGHT OF AN EARLY SUMMERS EVE
BY THE SIDE OF A SLOW MOVING STREAM,
IS WHERE THE OLD MAN LIKES TO SIT
AND WATCH, AND WAIT, AND DREAM.
OF TIMES THAT ARE PAST IN THE LONG GONE YEARS
AND ALL THE THINGS HE’S DONE,
NOW IN THE TWILIGHT OF HIS YEARS
HE WATCHES THE SETTING SUN.
AS IT SLOWLY SINKS BEYOND DISTANT HILLS
A CHILL SOON FILLS THE AIR,
AND SHIVERS RUN UP AND DOWN HIS BACK
FROM A GHOST FROM HIS PAST THAT IS THERE.
HAUNTING HIM LIKE SOME STRANGE MELODY
IT SWIRLS AROUND IN HIS HEAD,
MEMORIES OF PEOPLE AND FRIENDS THAT HE KNEW
ALL OF THEM NOW LONG DEAD.
BURIED THERE IN THE CEMETRY
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREAM,
WHERE THE OLD MAN LIKES TO SIT EACH DAY
TO WATCH, AND WAIT, AND DREAM.