Sad Is the Heart That Never Loved

How sad is the heart that has never loved, To be warmed by the fire of contentment. To know wanted desires of your beloved, While you sit alone in cold resentment. How sweet the scent of a flower in bloom. How warm each day awash in sun's soft light. How dark your heart in its lonely room, As you fade away in another night. The heart yearns, so its wants and needs are met, And searches to bond as wind to the leaves. To float red in a glorious sunset. Not shackled by one who never believes. Love claims no purity or escape from tears. It claims only desire, savored for years.