A seed of love that never found
The hallowed path to fertile ground;
The fruitless tree, the orchard bare . . .
Although unseen, the pain is there

How sad the heart that stokes the bed
Of ashes from a love long dead;
Futile hope that a spark might flare . . .
How great the pain that's dwelling there

An outstretched hand that no one holds
As night's obsidian cloak unfolds;
Whispered low, a desperate prayer,
But no response . . . the pain's still there

As the tide leaves, you'll hear the shore
Cry out "O, please, come back once more!'
Desolation's so hard to bear . . .
Barren and bleak, yet pain thrives there

The widowed sparrow mourns her mate --
Brief happiness, betrayed by Fate;
A nest designed with tender care,
But not abandoned -- pain lives there

The loneliness of passing years
No longer prompts my wasted tears;
Too late we learn life is unfair,
Yet all the while, the pain is there