this thing I sense upon the wind
an echo of a distant bell
the feeling of imagining
in dreams the crier comes to tell
the words of long forgotten truth
that whispers softly in my ears
of some-days past and present still
lost in all the fleeting years
times were measured long ago
and known to just a chosen few
the clocks are slowly winding down
revealing moments I once knew
words were writ’ for every eye
who shall seek along the way
to know they always live without
the presence of the sunlit day
behind the stars exists a word
a spirit in the skies
a moment breathing outward brings
this soul now living in disguise
grandfathersky 