Prints in the Stone

In the morning, the pure of light

Fell on our eyes

Through the sharp streams of evergreen

The sun on the grass

To the sharp sound of jackdaws

The sun warms the rock

In the breeze of November

The sense of it all

Witch the ropes laid in old sacks

Breakfast is done

And you search deep within yourself

Questioning 'why?'

But the wonder still lingers

To this day my friend

Long enough to taste

The older man

Leads the way

The younger men

Follow behind

A rush of fear

Wells inside

Sensational Feelings

I start to climb

start to climb

And the fear melts in the softness

Of his voice in song

To the gold in his handshake

The end of the song

Prints in the stone

Prints in the stone