dusting of stars up in the sky the lights of cars go swiftly by a single tree covered with lights is what i'll see on all these nights too cold to walk too old to dance no time to talk a proper chance to be inside away from cold no place to hide the storied gold an age or two may slowly pass what's old is new returning grass we long for spring and its warm light the kind of wing for honest flight and so we pause and think a while of the firm laws that none defile the time to smile the time to speak the longest while the shortest week