20
THE LEGACY
I miss the sun rising as I wake up Brooke Wade
I miss the sun rising as I wake up, Color splashed and sprayed, Arrayed, Against a golden sky. I miss the sun setting late at night, Color laced and laid, Portrayed, Going and coming all at once. But I know the sun will rise again, Silence shouted and sounded, Grounded, Light bringing forth the day. And I know the sun will set, Echos hooted and haunted, Flaunted, Becoming memory. These things all will come again, Antiques practiced and perfected, Recollected, And make the world seem new.
