A Spark of Life
Faint and ghostly, its light silver shimmer,
So nearly eclipsed by life's hell-pitch river
Barely shining through, as arrows tucked in quiver.
Just the smallest, slight, slim glimmer
The faintest wisp one can remember
Of a time long-past, alas that time of no surrender.
The time of a boy, so young and tender
His mind still gleams, still dreams forever
Now somewhere lost, bereft, and left untethered.
Whisked away by woeful winds of change
And times foul weather, always unchanged
Like the light-white fluff of a young fowls feathers.
He first takes flight as wind softly blows it off forever
One must recall their own childhood dream
Or else so bleak and with such ill-reprieve, this life will seem.
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