The fruit has ripened.
But it hangs high on the tree.
It will ripen further and die,
Slowly.
The sun will hit it hard.
The moon will not help at all.
The best thing for it to do is
Fall.
Birds may help it perhaps,
Maybe a strong breeze,
A god may help, if it says
Please.
Knowing providence though,
It’s more likely to hang and rot,
It’s one of those things that love just
Forgot.
It does look tasty and juicy,
But it’s so very, very high,
I might as well give up before I
Try.
I have been here before;
I have slept on this floor;
I have counted each vein,
Left on windows by rain;
Spoken words echo through;
Each remind me of you
And you and you and you;
I don’t doubt all were true,
When you said them to me;
They filled this room, silently;
They seeped into these walls;
Each one of them recalls
How they filled a lost heart;
And stayed to never part;
But you did;
And I hid.
I left this place of hope;
I left this place to cope,
With what was left to me,
Quite silently.
I walk back now,
With a wiser brow,
And a sharper eye,
With no need to try
To weigh my mistakes.
(I thought there were none.)
I do not blame you;
Neither this soft view,
Through the window pane,
Against fresh soft rain
That is so known; yet
Such that I forget
Why I hid long ago
From this slept-on floor.
Whom do you turn to, love,
When you’re blue and lonely,
Now that you are away from me?
Whom do you sing for, love,
When a sweet melody
Rises in your throat and breaks free?
Whom do you look at, love,
When your eyes search for hope,
After bitterness rains your way?
Whom do you touch, my love,
When you need touch to cope
With the anxiety of your day?
Whom do you talk to, love,
When your words become tears
And the present strikes up the past?
Whom do you seek out, love,
When you need to calm fears
That seem dire and poignant and vast?
Whom do you pray for, love,
When you kneel down at night
And whisper words known but to you?
Whom do you reach for, love,
When you wake up in fright
To see the Old killed by the New?
Whom do you love, my love,
When the night grows cold
And pain arises endlessly?
Whom will you love, my love,
When your life shall grow old,
With memory for company?
Hearts Still Care 