From the chest that harbors
The sheen of finer days
Taken too soon
Like lost grains of sand

Past roads emerge
From the twining flora of old
Forgotten and buried
By the sure passage of time

A flurry of words
Blossom once more
As if in their prime
Their sure and confident age

From the chest that harbors
The gift of tamer winds
Remorse beckons
And triumph retorts

As a tattered heart
Rummages with vigor
In search of vitality
Of devotion once held

He desperately scales
To the heights he once claimed
With eyes scouring
And scanning with purpose

Summer of ’39
The perfume lingers
With nerves a quiver
And set ablaze with angst

Fall of ’26
His evenings tremor
From the quite passing
Of mother’s embrace

Each winter recalls
The frosts of ’49
Staggering among kin
With bourbon-fueled pride

Spring of ’44
He dares not recall
For its horrors proclaim
Each passing day

These ghosts return
To the chest that harbors
The paths of old
That dare not wander