A week without you, quickly becomes like a year,
Time loses its meaning, everything is gray and drear.
Is it really better, to have loved and lost?
To have a heart, once warm, now covered in frost?
The ‘owner of a lonely heart’ is simply lonely,
Having never known feelings so homely,
The ‘owner of a broken heart’ is damaged and broken,
Moving forward as in a dream, the pain unspoken
A week with you, quickly becomes like a year,
Time loses its meaning, everything is bright and clear.
It really is better, to have known these homely joys,
To have a heart overflowing, cries of love become noise.
I am saddened for the lonely heart, its owner to be pitied.
The rainbow would be muted, as from it colors bleed.
I cannot describe the broken heart; it is to be avoided… still,
Recovery is possible, as life goes on, and with it hope is filled.
So what do we gather from this week of years?
A lesson to be gleaned, some wisdom against the fears?
Simply this my friends, love is its own reward, in all its forms,
To be sought with all diligence; cherished against all storms.
So this Ode to love is ended; I hope you find some germ,
Some twinkling of light in the tunnel, to guide you and affirm.
‘Tis never too late to seek it, always possible to find.
Always keep on looking, even though you think you’re blind.
Like seeks like, opposites attract.
The odds are in your favor,
For finding that which you lack.
“Ode to Love”
a symphony of contradictions.
by
Jerry E Smith
©10/14/17
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