Song on Empty

Song on Empty

His heartstrings still are measured by the mile,
exposed and strung and strummed with grace and style,
accompaniment to her voice for just a season
until she sang past love, toward reason,
then left them to his labor to pack and put away,
who, being but her workman, surely must obey--
a traveler past his station, useful as a rail,
a plank put in its place and hammered with a nail.