Ring the bells and ring them more
and know that they ring for more.
The birth of a new son, a baby has arrived
the death of an old man who lived long enough in spite.
The youth brings promise
the old brings decay,
and what can people do
but wait for that cold day?
some live in art.
They walk the halls and look upon the gold and silver
pictures formed long ago, far away.
I chose art
for in choosing art I get to see
the visions had long ago
on dark winten nights and bright summer morns.