Battered

Remember the morning, when love came again?

I turned it away, afraid of the pain.

Remember the flower that bloomed and grew?

I let it die before it could heal.



Remember the joy that knocked on my door?

It turned and left, after waiting until four.

Remember the stars that we gazed upon?

Now the sky is all empty, they are all gone.



The one that wants to be reached must stand up

As the well by the rain is filled up.

Loving again requires courage and trust,

As it does scaring away old ghosts.



And then again and once again light will shine,

Like grape vines covering the soil once dried.

And from mud spat and grainy sand

Love will build up a battered man.