Thomas Adams (Sedalia, Mo.)
HEARTS THAT CRY
Imagine all the silence gone and hearts are heard to cry.
And you can't turn the volumn down no matter how you try.
The orchestra is tuned and bowed. Each heart an instrument.
And every ' woe is me ' is proud. And 'loud's' the song that's sent.
You cover up your ears to block the sounds of hearts that cry.
But that won't turn the volumn down no matter how you try.
The only way to enjoy the day is not to turn them down.
But find the things to do or say that turn them fast around.
The Poetaster Oct/2013
Comments about this poem (HEARTS THAT CRY by Thomas Adams )
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