The World is Old

I think of you in times like this 

When the sun can’t quite burn away the mist 

And the leaves lie wet upon the mold 

For a breath the world feels not so old 

 

The trees stand out in stark relief 

Dimly arrayed against my unbelief 

That the sun’s already above the hill 

The fog is burning beneath its will 

 

The only sound among the trees 

The faint drips of dew drops upon dead leaves 

The damp air rich with the scent of loam 

A moment’s peace, a glimpse of home 

 

I think of you in times like this 

And then a wind starts stirring in the mist 

The leaves dry out and the wind grows cold 

The moment's gone and the world is old 

-BA Lawson