Pick a Star

Winter is not what it used to be
Waiting in autumn growing older
As the days grow shorter I can see
My days grow shorter too (and colder)

Those I took care of take care of me
My son with my name will be bolder
In life than me: my other son too
Will go much further than I have gone
Which is as it should be after all

I am ill now in increasing pain
I see someone else in my mirror
A stranger to the me I once knew
Yet somehow I see myself clearer
With poor eyesight and a damaged brain

Autumn in balance is rise and fall
And life just does what it has to do
The pyre of leaves burns smoky and small
But dusk of winter burns into dawn
Into a day which belongs to you

Some people seem to live on and on
Steadily if uneventfully
But I have lived (and would live again)
Eventfully if unsteadily
Does anyone know? I never knew

Winter is not what it used to be
But then winter was never like this
Come spring I hope you remember me
Pick a star then and blow me a kiss

+Steven Curtis Lance



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