An old man's heart says it best
|Woe to death,
That miserable purveyor of loneliness.
The old man’s cane, goes tap tap tap,
In protest gone unheard.
With half blind eyes,
He strains to see the image on the wall,
The image of the one, who has his heart,
Clasped in hands,
Six feet deep in the cold dark ground.
It’s been two months she’s been gone,
His world since, shrouded in darkness,
He sits in her chair,
That rocking chair,
He rocks and rocks,
And rocks even faster,
Till Mozart’s magic flute,
Brings back the light.
Each note a step,
A hundred steps,
He floats away, in a burst of brilliant sunshine,
To join hands,
With that angel, who has his heart.
Antonin Dvorak said it best,
Mozart is Sunshine!