The Lonely Heart

The lonely heart beats a muffled drum,
    percussion for the gentle sobs,
And tells the tale of sadness and,
    of the diminishing spirit it robs;
Enduring the creeping passage of time,
    marked off by sorrow and woe,
Longing for the once companionship,
    of something it used to know.

But cruel is the society we live in,
    where fortune favors not the meek,
And loss becomes the way for most,
    who had found what they did seek;
Tears are shed and spirits are crushed,
    and hearts are broke in two,
And the world passes by unfeeling,
    caring little, if at all, for you.

So what makes the heart keep beating,
    and dries the moistened eye?
What causes the spirit to again take flight,
    and helps to just get by?
The comfort of another soul,
    who touches with their own lonely heart,
Providing unspoken words of kindness,
    and the hope it does impart.

Fox

© September 1996