WHEN HEARTS CRY
The streets on which my father walked
long time ago to reach his work
are dear to me and call my heart
to shed its inner tears unseen.

Some parts of them are wholly changed
but not inside my wistful mind.
I still recall how they were then
The unchanged sites can me remind.

I miss the persons; they're still dear
as they were when l could not deem
to part with them when they were here
but add to that the work of time.

As they have left, my heart is squeezed.
I miss them and l have no hope.
Since l can't see them anymore,
I can't leave where they loved to live.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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