And now, the watchtower of your dreams
Stands empty in the wilderness;
A fortress, once, of all you hoped
And daily sought in faithfulness

The winter can be cruel, it’s true:
It strips away our fine veneer
And leaves us huddled in our rooms
With chocolate bars and Edward Lear

But out there, in the absent air,
There stands a structure, worn and frail,
That was the watchtower of your dreams –
Propped up by stick
And coffin nail