I walk alone in the early hours,
Hear rustling in the trees,
The falling leaves
Like golden tears in the night
Settle ahead to my left and right.
I hear the clock strike,
One, two, three
And wonder what has become of me,
Where has my life gone,
As I listen to the night’s song.
A screech owl calls in the distance,
Not a sound of pain,
But a familiar refrain
From wood walks long ago,
Secret paths only we would know.
Time passes with each footfall,
My paces echo in the still,
Eerily crunching dead leaves until
The clock strikes four
And I’m far from my front door.
I turn and retrace my steps,
No-one passes, no-one to see
The shadow of the girl I used to be,
Head bowed, legs heavy, shoulders stooped,
No-one to follow the path I have looped.
The clock strikes again, one thru’ five,
Walking on, walking long,
Working out the right from the wrong,
Chilled but not cold,
Feeling my age, yet not quite old.
My spirits rise, not far to go,
Six a.m. now, close to home,
I feel I am no longer alone,
The warmth of Love reaches out to me,
The sense of its Peace setting me free.
I hasten my steps, seeing my goal:
My mind clears, the mist lifts,
The unimportant things are dismissed,
The welcoming light shines in His eyes,
As a New Day begins with clearer skies.