From my third floor window
One Sunday’s eve, I gaze
As the barren trees tremble
And the street signs shake
Still are the houses, homes, and shops
Anchored firm to the stony rise
All have shut their doors
All have gone inside
In each and every window
Burns a tree of candles
Each flame a small glow
Each window a bit more
Each house a brilliance
Against the coming storm
As darkness falls, I see
My window has no candles
But the light of thousands
Keeps the dark at bay
Cast Off, Set Sail 