Annie Johnson

Annie Johnson

Photo: Inside A Dream by George Grie.

Comes the Time of Future Past

Comes the time of future past

Hanging like a stray thread

From the worn cloth of life.

The tally of dreams weigh

Heavy on the list of loves

Fading from the sheet

Of memory’s glossy wonder.

Long past is the yearning

Of the heart and soul of love

For equal chances in the court

Of destiny’s come-hither face.

Oh, the smiling faces of the past

Silently haunt me in midnight’s

Wakeful, sweat-drenched dreams.

Laughter echoing down the corridors

Of life’s endless wandering -

Seems ghostly real like clocks ticking,

Then chiming in the next room.

Life’s banquet has been served

On the table of the soul’s delight

And remnants of the heady wine

Cling to the lip prints on the glass

And its sweetness lingers on the tongue

As the symphony of life slowly fades

And the conductor rests his baton

On the music stand of eternity

As the chords of life fade away.

Annie Johnson