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.