I long for skies of blue and distant yellow
That disappeared in the embers of the bellows
Erupting not in flashes of sapphire gold
Whose ashes linger on in stories told
If I don’t make it back
Before the sky turns black
I don’t want my name remembered
On etched gray stones in November
So please soldier on through the days
And keep me close so I stay ablaze
In time, our names won’t matter
As long as our memories are gathered
