Shelves and shelves of dust and time,
And bulky memories,
Boxes and crates, names and dates,
As old as love and crime.
Echoes of my footsteps guide
Me on my wandering way,
Alone in this room of dust and gloom,
Luck leads my every stride.
I look behind and see my tracks
In dust, untouched by an age.
No soul has tread, no light has shed
For decades here in back.
I look upon these memories
With fondness and some fear—
What will I find, the cruel or the kind?
Sore failures, or worn glories?
With opening eyes, I leave that place
Of dusty yesteryears,
And turn my gaze to coming days,
And pray they’re full of grace.
