Waiting For The Past

Waiting For The Past

As I sit beside the fire,
I think of all that I have seen;
Of all the things I wish I'd done
And the dreams I dared to dream.

I hear the thoughts inside my head
Of how the world would be
If winter comes without the spring,
That I may never see.

I think of blood red sunsets;
Deep roots untouched by frost,
I think of many friendships
And of all the things I've lost.

As I sit beside the fire
I think of people long ago,
Of the people who have seen a world
That I will never know.

While thinking of the many things
That I will never see,
I fully came to realize
That these could never be.

I thought "all that glitters isn't gold",
And that our beauty never lasts,
And we should never go through life
Just longing for the past.

When darkness falls upon the world
I think of words that I have broken.
I know things aren't always as they seem
And from ashes, a fire can be woken.

When the morning mist and sun return
We will bid the stars farewell,
And look upon the silver streams,
To where the rain drops fell.

As I sit beside the fire
I think of places I have been,
And how there are so many things
That I have never seen.

But all the while I sit and think
Of the way things were before,
I listen for returning footsteps
And wait for voices at the door.

~Michelle~