Heartstrings Can Be Troublesome Things

 
It’s the innocence about the times that I miss most
The way they used to look up
The little voices pulling at the heart

When I used to drive by that church on Washington
There was a moon at the top of the steeple
His little voice would cry out “the moon daddy, the moon”
There was some comfort in hearing that
Yet I knew deep down inside as time would go by
All that would fade away

But that was years ago…

It was as we walked through the museum
That his silence pierced through me
His indifference growing
That resentment
As if the long talks we shared had been forgotten
That I’d become a stranger who calls but is never heard

This old heart still feels the scars
Fractured at the core but still healing
Asking for forgiveness that might never come my way

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