I think I wrote this last fall
I’ve gotten tired
Picking up the shattered scattered pieces
Trying to see a mental picture
Clearing my misty rose colored eyes
How long can I hold out a hand
Hoping you’ll take the first step
These one way conversations
Have hung up on the words
Intensions always meant for good
They echo an empty sound
My heart has gotten tired
Holding open the door
There’s nothing more that I can do
But walk softly across the broken floor