Even though in moments past

we've not made our verses rhyme

and dark yesterdays still linger in our minds,

we've emerged with wounded pride

from the seasons of despair

with Springtime in our hands and in the air.


For Today is where we are

and Tomorrow's soon to come,

it is waiting for its own songs to be sung

in a rhythm and a key

we've improved along the way

through the mountains and the valleys we have made.


If we fail to take steps now

because of stumbles in the past,

we lock Time in musty caskets that will cast

a shadow on Forever,

a shroud around Tomorrow,

and our Yesterdays are all we'll ever know.


For we are more than angry echoes

of past seasons of despair,

there is  Springtime in our hands and in the air,

we can write some different stories

if we'll see and not just look

and not just memorize the same old history books.

(Included in  So Far To Go When We Get There, Copyright Dudley Weeks 2002