Absent Heart

The memory runs hot when ere I walk
On foot-worn paths oft traveled in my youth;
Eyes shut, but still with vision as the hawk,
Images flood the brain, can’t paint the truth
In rosy hues. Not able to connect
With pleasant happenings that surely were
A part of childhood, time cannot correct
The wrongs done to a child. He was not there,
As growing up, the learning of the ways
Of a difficult world weighed down the soul
Of a troubled boy given to displays
Of sadness, loneliness, heart less than whole
In pain of wanting more, a young boy cried,
But he who brought me out would run and hide.

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