Dale Lloyd

Today I walked through yesterday,
Too old to dance, too old to play.
From limestone bluffs, I watched the stream—
It whispered fragments of my dream.

The things I planned, the love I knew,
The girl I’d hold as I passed through.
I smiled, I frowned, I shed a tear—
So much undone, so much unclear,
So much unloved along the way—
The winding road of yesterday.

The burned-out ruins of hope deferred,
Swirling ashes, nothing heard.
Silence. Silence. Not a sound—
Only silence coming down.

But carried on the wind—a voice,
I hear the Speaker’s quiet choice:
“Beauty for ashes,” I hear it say,
“Beauty for ashes, at end of day.”