I weave your dreams from autumn leaves
Turned brown and drifting downward
Toward the emptiness
Of summer skies
When the snow flurries
Upward toward the starlit heavens
And the moon looks down
Upon the restless hopes
Of careworn souls
Who daren’t
Believe
That anything
Could be so real
As the grind of wheat upon the wheels of time.
And the feet of those who’ve gone before
In the dusty tracks of them
Who couldn’t find
Their way.
