Endings Often Untold

Life slips out of the hands one day,

The sunrays shall shimmer on the silent springs where the birds come and take a drink;

The evenings will be calm, the twilight casting magical shadows of dream-lands mysterious, unknown;

But someone shall remain no more, maybe tomorrow it shall be me;

As the world will rejoice on jolly Christmas Eve,

I shall stand and wish to hold the dog shivering on the street, cold, forlorn, confused, in my arms;

And maybe you shall pass by me, maybe through me, who knows...

For I shall stand there waiting to be born again, waiting for warmth....an embrace...

Like a dog, on a cold wintery night, when even the angels have gone....merrymaking