Never Look Back

Time passes, and through it's tinted glasses
I see the souls of ghosts I knew as lassies.
O'er crimson leaves the wind holds down the roses
to watch the folding turn of clouds in poses
'til thunder rolls and splits the roaring sky like nature's moses
Sweeping rain, the angels cry in mortal pain.
The tides of creeping mercy neither care of what nor who was slain.
Clear as day, as clear as icy water's gentle waves a-lapping
break upon the eerie bay, the angels pray.
The secrets held by men who sought to throw their lives away,
forever stay, locked inside the holy hollow tombs
where dying angels lay.