Still, even now
their voices carry forward
they rise with the heat
a flame of hope that burns
in the end of every year
These penitents and pilgrims gather
in annual purgatories circled
in calendars on their walls
The very last week of a decade
when these flames burn brightest
and your noisy exit echoes
on through ages long
With black and white stills
that you still recall in color
The place, the date, the time
Still belonging to a now
that most have never known
Now holding vigil
for fellow travelers astray