Who was the tin man?

 lone he stood, with words in his hand

a journal of secrets, this tin woodman

some would say he had an ax to grind

but he chopped trees for paper :) at least in my mind

I was traveling thru a world that had become a wasteland

when i stumbled upon this empty shell of man

stuck,frozen, broken and hollow his edges rusted

life had beat him down til he was disgusted

once his world was colorful and bright

and each day love bloomed in gardens of insight

but now its cold and no flowers bloom

it rains all November and snows in June

constant memories linger over him like a dark cloud

he bares the rain,never to love again is what he vowed

circumstances left him hopeless, he forgotten how to smile

how to feel,how to love, tho he think of it every once in a while

he would get real quiet,strain and listen for the sound

that old familiar tapping of a heart that use to pound

but all he heard was echos of lost love and woeful cries

life had left him heartless, but isn't that where compassion lie

In the void of empty, the valley of hurt

love plants a seed deep down in the dirt

and i wonder is it possible to love a tinman

can the kindness i show him assure him its ok to feel again

if i give him my heart so his chest feels what mines feel within

and offer a crucible of passion for him to melt in

we could share my heart,in a lifetime of warm embraces

neither of us void,love can fill all empty spaces