Turning back the pages of time
All faded and brittle-
I chanced upon some quaint fancy of mine
A rhyme- written when I was quite little;
A wondrous portrait of the world was drawn,
Laden heavy with the songs of spring,
And a million ruby sunsets and hopes of dawn.

I sighed, turned over the last fragments
Of those precious years,
Of an age so quickly faded;
Only to spot a smudged page, still stained with tears.
It spoke of untold anguish, a burdened heart
And an unfulfilled wish;
Of a prayer for a content tomorrow
And a secret desire;

But- In this lonely walk of life
I now face only sorrow,
And watch my hopes to cinder burn -
Set ablaze by very own heart's fire.