Our aged mother's song of Glory shunned the nigh
The best and worst times it encountered
Ding dong the rhythms, always encapsulating the mind

Our aged mother's home of crooked and smoky walls cracks that draw beautiful maps
In it lies my precious pendulum that passed each delicate phalanges
And took the glances of our mother's smile

Our aged mother's box of precious diamonds and pearls
The one she guided day and night until the cold hands of dark took her
Yet the diamond shone even more and the pearls too
The house stood still and song anew
Forgetting the one who shielded them day and night

One thing I know
Man is helpless when the whirling dark snatches life
But can it snatch lovely memories?



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Aprokomag: Memories
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