Written by: Mark Norton

I heard a call through this April wind, the sound of a child crying,
Her eyes too blessed with the simplicity of a tear, her soul blind to the suns rebirth;
I looked up high and saw an eagle fly, over the early rays of light…
And caught the sound of its last good-bye

Memories pass the silent dawn, often bound to our own recollections,
In homes so far from lands recalled, or those just outside the door;
The measure of a man lays in the spirit of his life, in the will of his heart and soul,
And those found in his last good-bye

Oh this quiet April morning, lost to our memories past,
Held in the warmth of a suns rebirth, blessed by that simple tear,
An eagle flies to that ray of light, and catches our love confined 
To that single last good-bye

                               For albert,  from mark