In the dark,
a boy haunted my street
careful to walk his own somber beat
and as he passed, he pushed a cart
Inside the cart were bags and bits of discarded things
I stood and watched, I made no remark
all the while I wondered if it was true,
if while I'd gone that'd become of you.
It was then the boy seemed to stop
and there I saw among the bits of trash and broken glass,
a tattered lonely heart.