Barren and cold but never sold
waiting for something to fill up
it's yearning need.
Empty but deep needing someone to keep
it warm and tender to it's needs
while it rests on it's knees.
Like old Mother Hubbard, it always stays covered
hollow and bare, just wanting a stare
to keep the solitude at bay
Just wanting to be warm, wanting another storm
to stop the drought of feeling