Heart Of The Matter
Empty Pockets
Abstract memories lost somewhere in time,
Meeting demands for some letters to rhyme,
Gather some parchment, fill it with prose,
Send as a gift to God only knows,
Write it all down, now forsaking each line,
An offer of romance so sad to decline,
Hold onto a memory now vanished from sight,
It fades like the moon on a dark cloudy night,
And pockets now empty of love and desire,
Seeking only a song to rekindle the fire,
The poems are vacant, there's no one at home,
There is much to be said about living alone,
So lonely the tears that refuse to be cried,
The words so sincere, but the truth is, they lied,
My pockets are empty, with no more to give,
I've removed all the garbage,
And tomorrow, I'll live.
Linda Harnett, ©2006
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Empty Pockets
Empty Pockets
