Where dark days cast the smallest shadows,
You might look for me.
Through the sparkling rain washed windows,
You should try to see.
Behind the wall that hides your yearning,
You may well just find,
That past the time-wheel clockwise turning,
You traverse re-wind.
Along the footpaths to your dreaming,
You must skip again.
Around the sodden path there gleaming,
You must go my friend.
For here in the valley of those left waiting,
Only the saddest dwell,
And even the sound of the storm abating,
Pounds on our fragile shell.
We remember a scene where the half-truth was spoken,
What would turn out the coldest lie.
And the moment the dreadful spell was broken,
Old Champion began to die.
Joined to wet walls, to never be parted,
Shackled for all to see,
That the pain in the names of those dear departed,
Are a classical tragedy.
Should you care to look down in a moment of passion,
And instead of the light notice fire,
Remember when he was the latest in fashion,
Once loved but now beyond your desire.
