I look upon my life So little of it left Held eons of moments in my hands Touched by incidences Bittersweet is the fruit learned at an early age Extinguished dreams In twilight years Autumn comes in September Short eruption of reminiscence Dredged out words that are spoken in silence As mimed, in muse scripted Accused of wasting time Ember becomes dust But I was told that the Phoenix rises from ashes Shall I rise again To sing my song.
