Daniel Martin Moore

Across the evening sky All the birds are leaving But how can they know It's time for them to go? Before the winter fire I will still be dreaming I have no thought of time For who knows Where the time goes? And who knows where the time goes? Sad, dese

Are you not that Sycamore'd place where my thoughts journey and cling? A familiar voice in the flutter of silver leaves and the swell of strings Is it not you who seeks me out sows goodness and holds me dear Who draws me out with pen in hand again wi

So much of what I pushed out once Has returned after all these months To go where you have been To be where you are... again And be rested Minds from a stray age Page To go where you have been To be where you are... again And be rested To go where yo

at the end of a regret some things are just impossible to forget my affections and reflections the many irons in a lasting burn and each extracts its due in its own turn our small measure, the old measure our muscle our mettle our nerve may temper bu