quiet
silent
little world
mine

stain-glass windows
lying
on the floor of the cathedral
broken

in the darkness
someone cries
someone mourns
someone dies
alone

can you hear the clock
that old one in the hall
ticking ticking ticking
marking time its way
so slowly
like a heartbeat
only worse
and you know
you do
that if there was just a way
to find that secret door inside
you would
escape

bells
in the attic of her heart
there she weeps
only seen
unnoticed
through the tiny eyes
of birds

on the corner
dressed in rags
an old man stands
shoulders slumped
eyes already dead
and sunken
in that wrinkled face of his
forgotten
he feels the cold so much
knows it well
and even that little bit of coffee
in the cup clenched
so tightly
by his hand
could never warm him now

a child cries out
anguished
in the dark silence
waiting for the comfort
that will never come
silenced back to sleep
by stranger's hands
lost
one among thousands

they come
the tired
the weak
the lost
they come
stumbling down the road
in numbers
searching for that
(some)one
that will change it all
reaching for that
(some)thing
that can make the road
a little smoother
make the wind a little warmer
the water fresher

in millions
they come
searching
a.l.w.a.y.s
searching

© 1998 m. hughes

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