forgotten melody

mirrors on the fallen snow

reflecting where you'd like to go

and what you'd be if you could know

the narrative that makes it so

windows in the sky with eyes

exposing soporific lies

and passionless dramatic sighs

whispering goodbye

there's no fortune bright enough to make you

and there's no moonbeam light enough to take you

or any hammer strong enough to break you

unless you start it all alone

doors that lead to empty rooms

welcoming as wood tombs

promising the end of gloom

not all what you'd assume

douglas brent smith 1974/2023