I make a wish, each leaf that falls
that we'll stay golden after all
though rude winds blow the stars away
that we'll keep shining anyway
I like to think of it this way
when all the skies turn grim to grey
last harvest was the best was said
of many of the glorious dead who now live in a house of gold
who knew their strength from age to age
was only God who never aged
who saves the best of wine for last
and what are we but vintage past
no age at all for being blessed
if we but hold on to the quest
to leave such shining in our wake
and bright with music
for His sake
from first to last begin again
the measure of His heart to win
be mirrored in our span of days
nor fade from green the living page.
mary angela douglas 20 november 2021
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