The Heart

Jumping up and down the young boy trembles. Dreaming of a place far away from here. 

The dream is sweet and white and cold. The chill is in the air as he sits still and sings. 

One note, two notes, three. Will the young boy stop? His gravely tone making for a treat to the townspeople. 

He sings deep, low, haunted. He sings and he will not stop himself. It comes straight from the heart. 

The people fry the fries, the Oreos, the Twinkie. A fair with shouts filling the midnight air. 

The air cold. The sun set many paces ago, years or minutes pass us by. 

The laughter leads way to pain with stomachs grumbling. Can you hear it?

The sound is constant. Grumbling stomachs and laughter fading. The heart beats loud. 

There is pain and destruction, fire and pain. You can't escape the tragedy. 

Parents cry. People weep. Bodies get zipped into bags. Hyperventilating wracked by soul wrenching sobs. 

Black and long, shiny and dark. The bags enclose them. There is no going back. 

Never forget the horror of that day. Never forget the pain as my heart weeps tears. 

The brightest morning, the sunniest sky, the warmest day. It comes from nowhere. 

The warmth and heat is beautiful and bright. It is surprising and shocking without a way out. 

Snow and ice to warmth and heat. Mother Nature what have you done?

The sky is shining the birds are cawing and about all, my heart is singing. It won't stop it's tune. 

The children run, the elderly watch with brilliant dazzling smiles as they flash their pearly whites. 

The children jump and scream and holler with joy. They are free, it is fun, there is never a fear. 

But that dreadful night, that night proved it. There is always something to fear nothing is gone. 

It's when the silence comes that you should worry. That's when they hit you where it hurts. 

You never expected it. Missing the signs. Now there's death and pain and tragedy. And my poor heart hurts.