The day is old, the clouds are low,
And the sun loses its vibrant rays.
An old man sits upon his rocker,
Remembering the color of his younger days.
He remembered when he was just a small boy
Playing in the tall, green grass.
And beyond the great meadow there ran a clear river
That held colorful catfish and bass.
In the night of his teens when the stars shone and danced
He met a fair girl, his first love.
The laughed and giggled, hugged and kissed
While the moon smiled from above.
As his first child was born, there arose much joy
And love in his strong heart.
But his wife felt much sorrow when the babe didn’t live
And the death drove the couple apart.
His pain so great, the confusion of his soul
Brought gloom and gray to the meadow and house.
The color was drained from the very earth
And crept away like a small, nervous mouse.
Gone is the fertility of the great meadow
Gone are the catfish and bass.
Everyday you would here the raven announce,
"Death has come at last!"
Long did the demons of his soul
Haunt him day and night,
Darkness consumed his once perfect world
For joy has fled from sight
Grim silence now seizes the old man’s body
He went down, tired and broken
His weak heart beats no more
For Death took his breath as a token.