The night's still and most are tucked away,
When it falls to the ending of a day.
Hoping and praying it passes through without a sound,
knowing it always tries to stay in town.
the same old sound, a memory can't repay
I heard it long ago and not so far a yesterday
It sheds its sound to all who hear.
most of which come with fear.
It isn't hope that makes it ill,
but anticipation in the still
So hearing things that've gone before
remind us now of hope ignored.
the light comes and the sound fades
but we've all known less days
To sing his praise and ask of him
to show us now what might have been.
And as he says so many times
It's not to know for any mind.
but a promise of whats to come
a father a spirit and the son.
Return with a different call
For one to answer, every, all.
a poem I found, I usually don't like rhyming stuff.
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