Better days will come, my friend,
at least that's what they say,
and we will rejoice at their dawn.

The lost along the way
are strewn along the petaled path we spy, 
spirals into the hidden curve behind us.

Before us the road well-hidden
still bends there in the undergrowth.

Moments turn to hours, goodnight turns to morrow...

And way has led to way as has been told, 
and years and years from now, we -

We will tell tales of a time 
when better days lay ahead.

cc: Chagall 2021