Wistful

Something of life given to fill emptiness, Something of light shared to push away darkness; what we seek we pray we find, what we need we pray we get - but, ofcourse, there's no time... no time... Summer is over. Fall, with it's increasing cold, and broken leaves of gold, relentless as the coming snow, offers a wistful moment to ponder, before the storms arrive - and upon a dark night of drear, we find ourselves overcome by fear, when first we see the reflection given by lightning in the muddy puddle where we stand astray, forgetting, all we need do is stick our finger in and stir our troubles away -