A seed fell from a lady’s heart; it fell in to the ground,
A ground of brick, of ash and tar, a crack within it found.
The seed of little chance to grow was watered with her tears,
The tears they fell in to the cracks, a sprout was formed in fear,.
Up and up with doubt and hope the seed did chance its form,
And through the cracks it fought so hard, a flower starts to form.
But where it grew, of little chance, the earth around was hard,
Where many people walked before, where many people passed..
The seed it knew before it formed; the challenges ahead,
It knew it was not born of soil but fear and doubt instead.
It tried with all its might, to fight; it tried with all its heart,
But doubt and words from other men did kill it from the start.
A hardened path where many walked and now will walk again,
Does the sprout that was a seed lay spent & stomped again.
I am the seed of which you dropped, so many moments passed.
You are the fear, I couldn’t grow, the doubt my only mast.
You aren’t an earth where fruit can grow, despite your only plan,
You never truly softened up to take me by the hand.
A moment here or there perhaps, and here or there is boon,
But chances oft, of change, did stop, and call it off too soon.
Your words deceive with words you weave I know; I am the same.
Your actions cast aside the heart & riddle it with pain.
But even still, your bitter chill, your winter had a fire,
Deep within the snowy hills of you, my heart desired.
I shared with you the sun & moon, but also thorns of past,
I grew with you and put aside the pain within my heart.
But in return was spite & churn, I couldn’t understand,
You wanted me to be your man, but couldn’t show you cared.
So now I burn, I lay in guilt, my body wracked in pain,
My breath is half it used to be my posture not the same.
My will to walk, to smile, talk, my reason to exist,
I cared too much, I couldn’t trust, your words within me twist.
Of promised dawns forever more,
Of sparrow’s song, the seasons call,
Of all that was and now shall be,
The winter crushes through.
Yet summer comes, we planned so much
And now I’ll be another past,
If only I could grow to be
The only one for you.
And yet your arms my hearse, alive,
Your glance my curse but am deprived,
Your words my only rope, I fall,
To be again and soon.
On without my summer love,
Of any chance, a twig, a dove,
Of any sign from on my ark ;
A sign of hope be true.
Copyright © Tony Candito