The December Sun:

There was once a man who dreamed beautiful dreams

of love and sunset walks, beside pure and cleansing streams.

Although his days were now filled with sadness and pain,

he continued to hold fast to the sliver of hope that did remain.

His eyes were heavy and laden with yesterdays sorrow,

And his heart had become weak from living the days borrowed.

Yet he to this suffrage would not wholly surrender,

For his hope was real, and his dreams would survive in tender loves glorious splendor.

Yet, often now he would sit… all cold and alone,

staring into the teaming emptiness of the missions home.

He would look past the dingy huddles of old gray men,

Who still smelled the smell of forgotten dreams and day old gin.

For tattered and worn,

were these souls forlorn,

yet not he,

for within his heart lay a key.

As he would every now and then,

Release from his mind the dream he held within.

And slowly…a crooked smile to his face would come,

as visions of his wife caressed his heart beneath a setting sun.

However quickly as this, dream begun

Equally it would vanish

As did his wife…beneath the cold December sun.

J. Allen Wilson © 2004

~ The Years Of our Youth

In Our Hearts Forever Remain ~

www.Jallenwilson.com