A Poem

I meant to post this on New Year's Day (as would have been most appropriate) but, obviously, I forgot. So, without further adue, here is my poem:

Auld Passeth Away

The night is the time when the old man teacheth best.
A fire of mirth warms the home of dearth
As shadowy light dances along the ceiling while we rest,
Sipping on wine, listening to tales of trial and test.

The clock on the mantle ticks, tocks, and dings
Keeping time with the years which returned, begot tears,
In sync with the elder as he croons and he sings,
Unaware of the changes the young man brings.

While the light of the fire soothes and calms
Composing a soft tune to sing to the moon,
A chill breeze blows in from the back, psalms
Of yore, glory re-told, cease their soothing balms.

In the oaken frame of the door a dark figure stood tall
Snow swirling behind him, affecting the light to dim
The old man trembled, but rose, issuing a call -
Bringing a swordsman in time to see the venerable fall.

Smoke curled from the gun the bleak one, though just a lad, had fired,
His gray cloak wrapped around him, like a mist, on a whim.
The swordsman, already defeated, fell to his knees mired
In sorrow, but knew it was his time, as he was thus tired.

As the snow blew in bringing a chill the flames died down
And we who remained, had witnessed this change,
Stood only to bow down as the clock went round and round,
Ticking and tocking, ticking and tocking, by it, our lives are bound.

So the new master, ruler of destiny, removed his shroud
And holstered his gun to sit among us as one;
Now his turn to speak, make the fire again roar loud,
While we remain, lonely souls, wandering, in a changing cloud.