R. K. Hart
He stands bent over, his face in painful twist,
So easy to mend and yet he has this painful cyst.
Friends no longer came by his way,
Slowly one by one they began to stray.
His tears were for the things unsaid he failed,
He felt as though each word unsaid was to his heart impaled.
To his wife, daughter, son words of love and encouragement,
His tears spoke loudly of his greatest lament.
Many times, he asked himself why these words were not spoken,
Why had he not pasted on this simply easy token.
Was it so difficult to part his lips and put words to his voice;
Perhaps its pride or perhaps just plain choice.
Now he stands on craggy edge looking to a troubled sea,
His heart begs his mind with remorseful plea.
Speak before time ebbs away, and your heart does breach.
Moreover, your loved ones are no longer there to reach.
R. K. Hart 11/12/2012
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Comments about this poem (His Tears by R. K. Hart )
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