Repeat After Me

A sad song screams it's harmony softly, street corners and derelict gutters echo akin to orphaned children voices, over the clatter of begging bowls shattering. And even the yet unborn may cry forlornly in cold terminal passages when the soup kitchen's fatherless soul evaporates as steam on a cold night's dreaming. And now, in regret, in retrospect, with full womb and hindsight heavy heart, I hurl myself, parched of words, break my arms upon a wheel, catapult each prayer and hope you still care. And whisper, light as a ghost: "Bless the earth beneath your feet and calm the raging skies above you; repeat after me, repeat after me, I love you, I love you... I love you...