At the End of the Day

by. Dr. Manfred Malzahn

Sometimes on a rainy morning

Memories begin to fall   

As the smell of wet soil rises

Faded pictures come to call   

Then I look back to the road I travelled Lined with long­‐forgotten names   

And I think about my good companions   

Who shared my glory and who saw my shame   

And I wonder, was it ever real   

And I wonder, did we ever feel this way   

And will anything matter at all

At the end of the day?   

Sometimes on a sun­‐drowned Sunday 

A summer breeze will stroke my hand

And the wind will taste of stories   

   Of gentle seas and far­‐off lands   

Then I stand beside the open window

And hum the air to some old song   

It’s been a while since we   sang together   

I can’t believe that I’ve been here so long   

   

And I wonder, was it ever real   

And I wonder, did we ever feel this way   

And will anything matter at all   

At the end of the day?