In a little while from now,
if I’m not feeling any less sour,
I promise myself to treat myself
and visit a nearby tower,
ever what it’s like when you’re shattered
left standing in the lurch
at a church with people saying,
“My God, that’s tough, she stood him up,
no point in us remaining.
To think that only yesterday
I was cheerful bright and gay,
looking forward – who wouldn’t do ?
The role I was about to play.
And as if to knock me down
and without so much as a mere touch
threw me into little pieces,
talk about God in his mercy,
who if he really does exist,
Itseems to me that there are more hearts
Looking back over the years
and whatever else appears,
I remember I cried when my father died,
never wishing to hide my tears.
And at sixty-five years old,
my mother, God rest her soul,
she had ever loved had been taken.
with a heart so badly broken,
despite encouragement from me,
no words were ever spoken.
I cried and cried all day,
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