At Least To A Few

Here in the late of the evening

All chores done, horses fed

And the dogs laying at my feet

My thought turn to what might have been.

And to the memories of what was.

In the twilight of now

Neither past nor future

Between what was and what will be,

But all we ever have

Comes to go

In the fleeting present.

I remember the dream I dreamt,

At least some of them.

Enough to know that many

Woke to the reality

Of a bad slept night.

Never did I dream of what has come,

Though plans I have made.

Some of which came to pass,

And others I still work for fruition

With the full knowledge

That this very night my soul

May be required of me.

The night grows deeper

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©

Rexx