The shape of the past fits inside the palm of my little hand.
The edge of silver is a mystery, something I long to explore.
The rock bottom of October is a touch that chills your bones.
If you look underneath peace, you might hear screams with haunting echoes.

At the top of tomorrow waits a blooming willow tree.
If you jump into the present, you’ll land on the pebbles of the past.
When you tiptoe through the Valley of Happiness, you might skip those stones across a forgotten lake.
If you turn hope on high, you’ll hear your favorite song and sing along.