A Weathered Past

To those who stepped on this weathered ground

I had hoped to hear your golden voice again,

But there wasn’t a thought to be heard now

What wisdom I had hoped you would say.

Yet I stand here crying out in great fright,

Praying that one day you will come to me at night

It is only now that it is seen so clearly

You were always with me, just not as before.

One day it will be another sitting on this lonely gravel road,

Wishing, pleading, that my voice also comes again

That too shall pass, and even another will take his place

A chain, conveyer belt, of pain.