A yearner
To yearn
How would you define?

A cry sweet for love that seems quite so benign
Or a soft spoken whisper you’ll never confine

A wave in the ocean that tumbles and churns
Or a hot summer day that continues to burn

A sunflower turning its face to the sun
Or a butterfly fluttering about on a run

All these descriptions seem vaguely discreet
Because true earnest yearning is quite obsolete

The yearners have lived and the yearners have died
And those of us left are beginning to cry