Her stolen heart was left unannounced at my door step
I know the last place she would like to look for it, is this.
Yet I kept it warm and safe, with in the flannel of love
still wet with the tears she once shed, but tattered a lot;
I'll keep it like times before, till she has the presence of mind,
to retrace the steps to my door step, she could never forget.
This being the usual place to find her discarded heart
many come knocking my door, inquire what is it's state
plain curious they are, more of a usual ritual, familiar
"You do cradle it far too long, isn't it still a child, refusing to grow?"
I pretend ignorance, loyal to her, the heart that was once mine alone,
I'll never let down my split love,sell or barter what is left in that love
only wait for her without rancor till the tired foot fall of hers
echoes after the pale moon has risen, climbed high up in the sky,
hesitantly at last she will come to my door, find, it's again discarded,
as ever I am the only one, her last resort, though she hates to accept.
Then she weeps leaning on my chest, grief haunts her without fail
far a while, she cries, as she limps back with her brooding heart
I go to sleep, thinking how a love once moved mountains,
had gone waste