Lining the skies,
the silent memories sit,
just waiting for an audience
To take the time to listen, and truly hear what the wisps
Of remembrances of times long since past have to say
That remain with us, and stop and stay a while enjoying
Like storytellers by the fire, spinning entrancing yarns
And looming over the horizon, just waiting, a promise
Of a new day
If the past is remembered
And given its chance
To speak.
