Cracks

[philrose]

September seems like yesterday
A woman lost, a memory gained
A fallen thought, a heart so frail
Rain falling on an fractured rose
A tear dances on a widows cheek
A violin sits on a lovers shoulder
It plays a hymn for hearts a' mourning
Love fades when the morning comes
As the violin plays to the widows tears
the juggler drops another heart
The writer, a drink upon his weary lips,
after all these years, has tired fingers
And the violin begins to play,
the writer sings: " there are cracks in everything ".