Everyone's Valentine

Ever wondered why it heals, Time,

All wounds beneath the skin;

All said, forgiven,

All that is felt, never forgot.

Why not, at dawn of day,

Anew starts beyond twilight’s gaze;

Torments of endured time,

Be lulled, like nursery rhymes.

Ever wondered how it feels,

Lead poured through hearts at field;

Battered and wounded, beyond cognition,

Echoes filled, in war cries of isolation.

With limbs from the limp, thumping away,

Beating drums to whimsical dismay;

At once appear to march beyond,

A grave of fireflies, yet the heart, still longs.

No matter what voyage, or times and seasons,

Laying astray to bouts of reason;

Amid tangerine tides, in hearts still find,

A constant fear of an endless night.

The ballad, sole human, thus unfolds,

To be, from womb to tomb again retold;

Like a lingering wish had tunnelled its way,

To be felt again on frabjous day.

Ever wondered why it heals, Time,

With its infinite ordeals;

Ailing days of a heart’s desire,

In foundries of life, purged by fire.