Let the empty chambers ring
with all the things
which might of been.

Let the clouded, muddy sky
wreak havoc with the day.

For the day is dead
and falling hard,

Wilting like the petals
of the rarest, finest rose,
sinews of forgotten dreams.

And the believing's done
there's nowhere to go now,
no one to believe in.

And I've thrown my life away,
torn my heart to shreds,
and all because, I believed.

May 4, 1973
By Linda A. Copp ©