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As I look from my window today,
there's a bit of a mist on the hill.
The road runs to town in its usual way.
The highway hums in the still.

A bird flutters by with a twig for a nest.
Just like a usual Spring.
It's a postcard scene, and you never would guess,
that nothing is really the same.

Time has a way of distilling a mood.
The same kind of way a flower grows.
Time can teach us to sing the same old tune,
with a feeling that only Time knows.

As I look from my window today,
I can almost see them pass,
the figures from ages of Time's parade,
like a flowing image in glass.

The sights and the songs of seasons of Earth,
all have a place in the heart,
and every death and every birth,
has added a special part.

Time has a way of bringing it home,
to the Wanderer on the Road of Time,
that we are never really alone,
we are weaving the Soul of our kind.

( © 2003 - Betty J. Curtis - "Future Folk" Music )