And in the dungeon of his heart,
He crouched in shackles on the floor
And waited there, intent his stare,
Upon the opening in the door,
Through which his jailer once a day
Pushed crusts to which he'd wildly crawl,
Then rise to press his eager eye
Against a peephole in the wall.
Then all too soon, it closed... and gone
Were light and hope and love and all.