The Coffee Hour

my heart that died

I view the weeping clouds as they grieve down over my silhouette.

For she is the child that mirrors my ghost of the past.

The ghost wishes to play,

so she whispers to both my ears.

But solely I hear my weak heart skip a beat.

So the child waited, as she dances across the still sand.

While I standstill as the quicksand suppresses me.

Time went by, and the ghost called out to me again.

She hopes to play

But I neglect her passion, as my blue heart skips once more.

It wasn't enough.

So the child wailed out my name, but I throbbed over a heartbreak.

Her cry became an echo as I wanted to succumb.

I called out the child's name, but the sky cleared.

My shadow was finally gone,

and my tears finally fallen.

I echoed her name, but it never came back.

Then I wonder why I cry, but I realize it is for my heart that died.