There’s writing on the wall in here,
Beside your pensive head;
Some anger, lost in yesteryear,
That serves as art, instead

It hurts me now to see you so,
The pain that you must feel;
The ache that comes in waking, when
The dream’s no longer real

As such your kindness, some mistake
A heart that’s hale and light;
As though the pages, ripped and torn
Could be put back to right

You signal out your high distress
In words, alive and dead:
You lob out softballs to be hit
Which people kick, instead

I have to say goodbye to you
Within this hall that molders;
And as you’re shivering, I place
My jacket on your shoulders

I know that times will change one day:
A great life – you will lead it –
There’s writing on the wall for you,
But it’s too soon
To read it