Empty is...

Empty is the hand
Of a beggar desolate and
Forlorn, sitting on the walk
His tongue not letting him talk
Eyes, moist yet dry
Getting no sympathy, as hard as he may try.


Empty is the life
Of a lonely dedicated wife
Waiting all day long,
Trying to cheer up with a song,
For something lost long ago
It's impossible, deep down she does know


Empty is the view
From a window, polished and new
Looking out at the concrete jungle
With nothing warm or humble
Cold and bare, nothingness does stare
At us, instead of life in the cool, fresh air.



Empty is the chair
In a room, isolated, deprived of air
Dentures and spectacles on the table next,
A little looking glass sitting on some text
A missing old fellow, white moustache, no hair
Isn't there anymore, at peace somewhere


Empty is the world
Of a little girl, lying curled
In a dry, smelly gutter
She cannot even mutter
A word to tell
The intensity of the disaster that fell.