Wistful Poem by Smoky Hoss

Something of life given
to fill emptiness,
Something of light shared
to push away darkness;
what we seek
we pray we find,
what we need
we pray we get -
but, ofcourse,
there's no time... no time...
Summer is over.
Fall, with it's increasing cold,
and broken leaves of gold,
relentless as the coming snow,
offers a wistful moment
to ponder, before the storms arrive -
and upon a dark night of drear,
we find ourselves overcome by fear,
when first we see the reflection
given by lightning
in the muddy puddle
where we stand astray,
forgetting, all we need do
is stick our finger in and stir
our troubles away -