Devoid Of Tender Feeling The evening brings its shadows,
All dancing in the dark,
The tree lined streets deserted,
In truth, it's cold and stark,
But time moves slowly onwards,
Soon it will be light,
The dawn will sing its chorus,
A nightingale takes flight,
Throw open all the windows,
Let the sunlight fill the room,
Sing a song of summer,
Despite impending gloom,
Devoid of tender feeling,
This cold and sterile heart,
Still searches for a reason,
To make another start,
Finding respite in the sunlight,
And a memory lost in time,
She finds her love rejoicing,
So she pens another rhyme,
A scrapbook on the table,
Will recall the way she was,
A healer and a poet,
Bemused by loud applause,
She's sitting on her balcony,
A glass of wine in hand,
And wonders if,
Someone, somewhere,
In time; will understand.
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