Roses lined the pathway to the weather beaten door. Inside, the weary window's moonlight washed the wooden floor. The blue and ashen rays of light which in the corner's lie will climb the walls to freedom just an instant 'fore they die. And in their place the misty morn will rise in crystal splendor. Then to the golden waves of light the blue night will surrender. The dawning breeze will wisp with ease to dry the dripping blades Of prairie grass upon the hill as morning moisture fades. rs