Thought Dream
Joe McDonald
I walk through the scented air of summer's blooming
Into the frozen air of winter's dying,
And as tears inside me fall
The pain of old wounds
Calls me to mend them,
And I realize once more
That things done before
Have no ending.
I feel the cold of eve slowly waning.
As sun burst rays of warmth overtake me.
And the twisted seeds of doubt
Which spread my sins about
Lie parched and withered.
And the present not the past
Claims me at the last
For it's not over.