Morningside

Morningside

The old man died

And no one cried

They simply turned away

And when he died

He left a table made of nails and pride

And with his children he carved these words inside

For my children

Morning light

Morning bright

I spent the night

With dreams that make you weep

Morning time

Wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine

For I recall the words an old man sighed

For my children

And the legs were shaped with his hands

And the top made oaken wood

And the children that sat around this great table

Touched with their laughter

Ah, and that was good

Morningside

An old man died

And no one cried

He surely died alone

And truth is sad

For not a child would claim the gift he had

The words he carved became his epitaph

For my children