Where Have All the Hearts Gone | Fabrice Poussin

Memories flee of those grand’ ole days
when upon a war’s end they embraced
strangers strolling on a frozen avenue
littered with joy and relief for the uniforms.

Riots overtook the tree lined grassy knolls
where eternal learners cried for a renewal
to only fall in tiny pools of crimson rivers
dreams shattered for another generation.

Animals hungry for a senseless fight gather
their teeth and claws drooling with pasty slime
leaving trails of a hateful contagion behind
a poison few can avoid in darkest times.

No one sits on porches any longer
most stay glued to strange images of dissent
while balustrades rot in perpetual abandon
where have all the hearts gone, she asked.

Alone as if trapped between infinite scrapers
she seeks traces of joyful moments sadly lost
in times of such terminal turmoil
those absent seek only reason to breed death of the gentle.