At times there are those things inside,
That we don’t even know are there,
Having the inability,
To let those things be shared,
At times we wish we somehow knew,
Before anyone else could see,
Imprisoned by those very things,
We thought would set us free.
As we search our hidden souls,
What things might we find,
Sometimes it’s very hard to see,
If towards love we pretend we’re blind,
Insulated by the past,
Can it protect the broken heart,
Never able to forget,
That day when love did start.
People, places and even things,
Might cause uncertain pain,
Never really getting wet,
Though we stand in pouring rain,
Every day there is the hope,
That someone might want to see,
That love entered long ago,
And is still alive in me.
If no one else is permitted to see,
How is it that they know,
Love was never allowed to leave,
And inside each day it grows,
Though it’s presence might be muted,
It’s still something very real,
The heart holds on to what it found,
Because that’s all that it now feels.
Holding on is a difficult thing,
Letting go the impossible task,
Though at times love isn’t seen,
At times it dons a mask,
Thoughts might take us a certain way,
But thought isn’t always correct,
And keeping love always alive,
It’s our hearts that we protect.
A book’s not judged by it’s cover,
And love might not clearly show,
Though it isn’t really seen,
Inside it still can grow,
The emotion isn’t what others see,
But it’s all important in a heart,
And on that love a soul can lean,
It’s one remaining part.