Of Course My Heart Aches.
For every beat there is a mournful song,
with all its gentle motions
that lives in the poor body,
and in the labouring breast
the hope of tomorrow.
I am not blind, deaf and dumb
in my still admiration of
gaining will and force,
my skin is captured
by the deepest senses, that make
every shivering movement
to a thin leaf in the approaching wind.
My eyes and ears, lifted high above
with all deeds, and in the silence
of what is to be found and done.
Days and nights, loaded with perceptions
to furnish the picture with sensations
and for staying in my mind.
Come, and listen to my aching heart
lean your head to my bosom
where a stirring sound is echoing
in sadness most, but now,
my tears will kiss your face your chin
and smooth the light around your brow.
Of course my heart aches.
© February 2016 k.c.