My heart is cold

My heart is cold, and it is weary.

It used to be warm and merry

Now it has grown old, and it is broken.

The shards still lay where it stood.

Long it desired to do good.

Yet it seems dead and cannot awaken.

My heart still rejoices, oft,

When I see nature unimpeded

When I see love kindled and granted

When I hear sweet music, and soft.

Yet my heart is frozen.

Yet my heart feels broken.

Yet not all is ash and dust in my chest.

Embers remain. Dwell in dream-like sleep.

Sadness dampens it. Feeds its unrest.

Loneliness like ivy coiling creeps.

My heart needs the fire of love to wake.

A fiery hand that might the shards take.

Yet I fear my heart is now too cold

To feel life in its veins again

It that was ever before so bold.

It that shunned from no pain.

It that now seems to be too old

For either love or hate to contain.

Although it may laugh and entertain

It feels like a handful of ice in the cold.